Yizkor
by Mechabeira
Summary: "She didn't want it to be another way." T/Z. Part of the "Treading Water" universe.
1. Chapter 1

**An Apology: I am sorry. I am sorry for being away, I am sorry for how things have shaken out on the show, and I am sorry for writing something new rather than posting an update.**

**I AM still writing. I will continue to write until I've just had it out. There are several stories that I have to finish and a few more that I have scaffolded and not yet written.**

**But. BUT. My family has grown. Mr. and Mrs. Mecha are +1 now, and I have a LOT less time than I thought I would. (Like who knows that, though? Seriously? Babies need instruction manuals and warning labels.)**

**THIS story, though, is completely written and I will be posting one chapter every four to five days. Expect five chapters in total.**

**I also want to make a public expression of gratitude for all the lovely notes I've gotten from people near and far. Thank you for thinking of me and my work, thank you for reaching out. You are all great.**

**Expect updates to "A Village Life" and "Holy Land" in the coming weeks.**

**Warm Fuzzies,**

**Mecha**

**. . . .**

"Nine-one-one. What is your emergency?"

A small voice came across the line. Female. Young—seven, maybe eight. "My mother is having a bad seizure," she said. "I think she needs to go to the hospital and my grandfather isn't here to take her."

Dwayne clicked over to PowerMap and traced the call. The burbs. Mom probably wasn't OD-ing. _Probably_. "What's your name, sweetheart?"

There was no panic in her little voice. "Liana DiNozzo. My mother has epilepsy from an accident, but she took her medicine this morning. I saw."

"Do you know what medicine she takes?"

Liana DiNozzo hesitated. "I can't remember."

_Kid in house_, he noted in the dispatch, and sent Bethesda-Chevy Chase EMS on their way. "That's ok. Tell me what Mom is doing right now, sweetheart."

"She's on the floor, shaking all over. She...she fell out of her wheelchair. There's blood on her mouth."

He sent another note to dispatch, but he doubted the team would get it before they got on scene. "Look closely, kiddo. Are Mom's clothes tight around her throat?"

He heard her swallow. "I loosened her collar and her shoes."

"That's great. Is there anything around Mom could hurt herself on?"

"No."

"Great. What room are you in?"

"My bedroom." She gasped. It whistled in the receiver. "Someone rang the bell!"

"That's probably the paramedics," Dwayne said easily. "Can you go check without hanging up?"

"Yeah," she breathed. He heard her footsteps on the floor. Hardwood, probably, if mom was in a chair. "They're here."

"Ok, let 'em in."

He heard a chain lock clatter and then the kid asked to see IDs. He smirked; she was one smart little cookie.

"Should I hang up now?" she asked.

"Nope. Is there another grownup with you?" _Say yes, kid_, he willed. He didn't want to send a social worker out for her.

"My grandfather just got home. I see his truck in the driveway."

He smiled. _Attagirl_. "Then go get him, sweetheart. You did good."

"Thank you," Liana DiNozzo replied absently, and hung up.

. . . .

The seventh floor was silent, the hallway empty. Only one nurse sat at the central desk. She waved Tony toward the family waiting room, where Gibbs sat stiff in an armchair and Liana dozed on a hard sofa. He nodded at Gibbs—he was staying, of course—and gave Liana a gentle kiss on the brow. "Hey, my lioness. Let's go home and sleep in actual beds."

She woke with a start. "Ema?"

"She's gotta stay, babe. C'mon."

He guided her down to the parking garage and waited in the driver's seat for her to buckle her car seat. Ziva wouldn't hear of switching her to a regular booster until she outgrew the five-point harness. "Heard you were quite the hero today," he said, pulling the car onto the street.

She was quiet for a long time. "I only did what you and Saba said," she said softly. Softly. Liana rarely spoke above a murmur.

"A lot of people can't do that," he replied. "They get scared and freeze up, but you powered right on through like a champ. I'm really proud of you, Lee-lee." Tony pulled up to a red light and glanced at her in the rearview mirror. She was staring out the window, eyes ringed with shadows, and picking at her cuticles. The light changed and he had to look away. "Ya ok, sweetheart?"

"Ema has the flu."

"Yeah. The fever triggered the seizure. Bet she'll be home by tomorrow." He turned onto their block. Their porch light beckoned.

Liana got out and watched fireflies alight on the grass. "It's my fault she's sick."

He closed his eyes for a moment, glad for the dark. "No, it isn't."

They got out. She finally looked at him. He slid one hand across her nape and pulled her close. She shook her head against his leg. "Yes, it is. I probably brought the virus home from camp. I didn't get it because my immune system is stronger."

He rubbed her back. "It's not your fault, Liana. That's enough."

She hadn't heard him. Or wouldn't. "I shouldn't go anymore."

He sighed; Liana was finally, _finally_ making friends at her artsy day camp. "No," he refuted. "You're not quitting camp. You are _not_ the reason your mom got sick. Go put your pajamas on and we'll have a snack before you head off to dreamland."

She fell silent. Tony could hear her breathing quicken. She reached for his hand after a long moment and blinked up at him with wide, dry eyes. "We were in my room when it happened."

She was a big girl now— seven years old—but he picked her up anyway. "C'mon, little lioness."

She clung to his neck. He carried her inside, down the hall, flicked on the light. They both squinted at the mess. Ziva's chair was tipped over on the area rug. IV caps and alcohol pads littered the floor. There were a few drops of blood on the hardwood.

"Wow," he said slowly. "You must've been scared, kiddo. Did she bite her tongue?"

She shook her head. "No, her lip. Saba said it needed stitches."

He eased her down. Liana went straight for her mother's chair and righted it. Her hand lingered on the seat cushion. "We'll have to take this to her tomorrow."

"I know."

"She doesn't like to be without it. She doesn't like to be stuck. Remember when the caster fork broke and it took the guy a whole day to fix it? She was so mad."

"I know, sweetheart. I'll take it to her when I drop you off at camp."

Her fingers traced the handrims and brake levers. She snapped them closed. "I never saw her fall like that."

He smiled a little. "Oh, I've seen your mom take plenty of spills. Did Saba tell you about the time she pulled the whole closet down on herself?"

The corner of her rosebud mouth tipped up. "Yeah."

"What about the time she fell in a pile of snow?"  
She giggled. "_You_ did that, Daddy!"

He scoffed. "I did _not!" _Liana fixed him with dagger-eyes that could only be ascribed to her mother. "Fine," he relented. "I confess. But only because she nailed me in the throat with a snowball and it really hurt."

She took her pajamas from the hook, turned her back to him, and tugged her shirt over her head. "Ema is going to be ok, right?"

He wasn't nearly as confident as he sounded. "Yeah, she will." He crouched and scooped the mess off the floor. It was only a palm's worth of debris. "You want something to eat before bed?"

Liana slid beneath the blankets. "No thanks."

He sat next to her. "Want me to brush your hair like she does?"

"No thanks," she said again, and pulled the blankets up to her nose. "I love you, Daddy."

He kissed her cheek, palmed her head. Her pulse thrummed beneath his ring finger. "I love you, too, Liana. _Buonanotte_."

Her eyes smiled above the quilt. "_Spokoyni nocheh."_

_. . . ._

_"Lia-levi'yah," Ema called, lifting her sunglasses. _

_Liana frowned; something about her eyes didn't look quite right. Maybe it was the glare. Or maybe Liana was just being a worrywart. She hitched her backpack higher and made her way through the crowd. _"_Hi, Ema."_

_ It was a short walk home. "How was your day?" _

_ "Fine," she lied. _

_ There were no cars in the driveway. "Saba is out," Ema said, unlocking the front door. "He has errands. Tell me what you did today, motek."_

_ "We're learning about Native American art. Natasha from the art store is teaching. Today we drew kachinas and tomorrow we'll do Zuni fetishes. We already got to see some today. Natasha brought them."_

_ "I have never heard of such things."_

_ "The Zuni live in Arizona and New Mexico. Here-I'll show you." _

_ "Daddy and Saba went to Arizona on an investigation once. They made no mention of any fetishes."_

_ She pulled up an image search on Ema's tablet and pointed. "See that arrow? It's turquoise. The Zuni believe it's a sacred stone, so they use it to make the animal's heartline. That signifies the animal's life force."_

_ Ema rubbed her eyes and blinked hard. She hummed a little. Something in the sound hurt Liana's stomach. "Very nice. Will you be making one?"_

_ "Drawing. Tomorrow."_

_ "Tomorrow," she echoed. Her voice was thin as wire._

_ A strange, cold fear walked up Liana's spine. Something was _wrong_. "Ema?"_

_ Her hands curled into fists, wrists locking in her lap. Her head rolled, eyes flitting, and her chin hit her chest. _

"_Ema? Are you ok?"_

_ She grunted once, lowly, and doubled over her knees. Her long, dark hair fell over her face. Liana patted her arm. It was taut, the skin hot and dry. "Ema? It's ok. Don't be afraid. I'm here."_

_ Ema tensed further and tumbled face-first onto the floor. Her wheelchair teetered and fell, too, landing on its side on the area rug with a muffled crash. Liana's panic cleared abruptly and she dashed for the portable telephone. She punched the numbers with her thumb and ran back to her room. Ema was shaking hard now. _

_ "Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?"_

_ Cool, calm, and collected, Daddy would say. "My mother is having a bad seizure. I think she needs to go to the hospital, but my grandfather isn't here to take her."_

_ There were a few clicks and then a voice said, "Your mother is dead, Liana."_

_ "No," she argued, frustrated. It was hard to explain adoption sometimes. "No, not my...not Lyuda—Ziva. Ziva is my mom and she has epilepsy. You need to send an ambulance for her. She needs to go to the hospital." _

_She heard the front door bang open and then there were heavy footsteps down the hall. "We're in here!" she called._

_Ema grunted again. Her fists were curled beneath her chin. They looked smashed and broken. "It's ok," Liana soothed. "They're going to help you."_

_ Two men in uniforms stormed in. They wore black masks and didn't speak. She got nervous; weren't paramedics supposed to ask her questions about what happened? "My mother fell," she reported. "She's having a bad seizure. You need to give her medicine to make it stop."_

_ They ignored her. One lashed Ema's hands together with a length of cord, and another jabbed a needle against her throat. She went limp. He lifted her up. Her thin legs dangled like yarn. _

_He carried Ema out to the ambulance, but it wasn't an ambulance; it was a white, windowless van. He tossed her carelessly in the back._

_ "Hey!" Liana shouted. They were making her so angry. "She's going to have bruises! She could get a blood clot!"_

_ One of the men gave her a shove. They were identical, she realized, right down to their policeman boots. "Look at what you did," he said. He pointed at Ema. "It's your fault. You need to go."_

_ She was still mad. "Saba isn't here," she said. "We need to call him."_

_ He pushed her again. She tripped over a buckle in the sidewalk. "Go," he ordered. He spun her by the shoulders. "Get out of here. You can't come with her. Not after what you did."_

_ An empty freeway opened up before her. A snake sunned itself on the shoulder. Alligators lazed open-mouthed in the muddy roadside canal. Liana dug in her heels. "No," she said, but quietly. "I'm going to the hospital with Ema."_

_ But the van was gone when she turned around. The saw palmettos rustled. A storm was coming._

_ Daddy pulled up in his work car and leaned out the window. His eyes were red like he'd been crying, and his wedding ring was gone from the hand he let dangle against the door. "I can't have you here," he said, and Liana nearly choked. "Not if...not if it's going to be like this."_

_ "I'm sorry," she cried. "I'm sorry. Please, Daddy, I didn't mean to make her sick. I didn't mean to make her have such a bad seizure."_

_ He let the car inch forward. "I can't, Liana. You understand, right? You're so smart. I'm sure you get it."_

_ "So smart," a voice echoed from behind her. Grating, full of muck and moss. "So smart, Liana. So smart." Liana whirled. Her mo...Lyuda was climbing over the guardrail, hair wet with swamp water, skin bluish-white and bloated. "So smart," she said again, and grinned a blackened, rotting grin._

_Liana's heart pounded. She urged her heavy feet forward. "No!" she shrilled, but Daddy revved the motor. "Come back!" _

_She ran after him, skin taut in the shimmering heat, but the taillights disappeared in the underbrush and she collapsed, skinning both knees on the macadam. She jumped when Lyuda's cold, gritty arm slid around her shoulders. _

"_Liana," she hissed. "So smart. But never enough, are you? Never enough."_

_ She skittered away, brushing slime from her arms and neck. "Stop it. You are supposed to be gone."_

_ "No," Lyuda drawled. She dragged Liana down, down into the swamp. Mud came up over her battered, too-small sneakers, up over her knees, over the hem of her striped sundress. Ema picked it out for her. She didn't want to get it dirty. _

"_Stop it!" she said again, and flinched. She'd never spoken to Lyuda like that, but she kept going, too scared and angry to care anymore. "You left! You're supposed to be gone and I am supposed to be with Ema and Daddy!"_

_ Lyuda lashed out, striking Liana once with a wet, fishy hand. "Zat'k'nis!" _

_ "No, _you_ shut up!" Liana retorted. "You left! I hate you!"_

_ Lyuda overpowered her, pulled down and down until they were neck-deep in the stagnant water. Liana could smell fish and rot. She struggled, kicking up mud and debris. A gator slid off the bank with a splash. She screamed once, high and piercing._

_ "Lee-lee?" _

_ She looked up. Daddy was standing at the guardrail, looking down. His shirt was clean, his badge and gun on his hip. "Stop," he ordered. _

_ "Daddy!" she screeched. "Please get me out!"_

_ He shook his head. "Stop panicking. You're only making it worse."_

_ "I'm sorry!" she begged. "Please take me back. I won't make Ema sick any more, ok? Please,?" Lyuda pulled again. Water filled her mouth and she gagged. "Daddy!" she cried one last time._

_ Water came up over her head, filled her ears, burned her eyes. She gasped, struggled. She was a good swimmer but mud sucked at her ankles and Lyuda's fishy, bloated hand forced her under. _

_Her lungs filled. She thrashed harder, tried to find the surface. Was this what it was like to have a seizure? Was this what she had done to Ema? Lyuda let go and he bobbed up and sucked air, desperate. She tread water, looking around. Daddy was gone. Lyuda was gone. The winds had stilled and the sun was lower. She paddled calmly toward the muddy bank. She would get out. She would walk to the casino on the reservation. She would call Saba, he would come with clean clothes and take her home. Ema would be there. She would smooth Liana's hair and stroke her cheek and say, _it was all a bad dream, motek. You are fine.

_But something clamped around her leg, tore the flesh just above her knee, ground against the bone and then she was flipped on her back. It hurt. She kicked with her free foot and caught something cold and dense. Were those scales? There was a groan, some low clicking, and she was dragged under again in a cloud of silt and leaves. She tried to fight, but her fists clenched, her back arched, and her hair tangled in some blowdown below the surface. Air left her lungs in a rush of oily bubbles. She drew in water and it burned. _

_Teeth and scales flashed in the remaining light. Liana tasted blood. A claw slashed across her face and she closed her eyes, sank into the mire._

_. . . ._

Ziva woke with a jolt. Everything hurt—her head, her hands, her teeth. Her toes? No. That couldn't be right. There was soft clicking somewhere, and the telltale squeak of crepe soles on linoleum. Hospital. Of course. She turned her head and winced—even her hair hurt. She frowned without opening her eyes; someone was there, right?

"Abba?"

"Yeah, Ziver."

She shifted, but everything was heavy. Was she tied down? Damn the restraint-happy nurses. Her tongue thickened in her lazy mouth. "_L'ana_?"

"Home."

Alone? She'd kill him. "_Gedd'er_."

"It's oh-four-hundred, Ziver. Tony's got her and they're sleeping. You'll see her later."

Did he not understand _anything_? "No," she argued. "Phone."

"Ziver—"

She finally pried her gluey eyes open. The light was too bright. She pinched them shut again. "Now," she snapped. There wasn't time for his nonsense. "Home."

It meant he was to dial the landline. He did, she thought, and held the mobile to her ear. Her hands were lost somewhere among the bedclothes. Had she been swaddled?

"'Nozzo," Tony said on the third ring.

She swallowed. Her throat was fire. "Tony, where is Liana?"

"Sleep."

"Wake her."

"No," he slurred. "S'early."

She shifted and ended up slumped. "Please, Tony."

That got him up. "You ok?"

"She was there."

He sighed. She missed him. "She was there, Zi. She called the bus for you."

Her stomach clenched. Was she a bad mother? "Please get her," she ordered again, but softly.

She heard him slide out of bed and pad across the hall but his breath caught and nausea crept up her throat. "She's not in bed," he said tightly.

She bit down hard on...something and tasted copper. Abba's fingers pressed the phone to her ear. "Liana is not in bed," she informed him.

His jaw tightened. "Check the pool."

Tony was already there. "Not here," he said, and they all sighed.

"Her room," she ordered. "Ours. Abba's. Is she outside? She likes the new deck. The yard."

Ten minutes crept by while he tossed the house, until fear caught up with him and he slammed the pantry hard enough that Ziva heard the glasses rattle in the cabinets. "I'm calling McGee and Bethesda PD. You don't think she ran, do you?"

She bit back another wave of nausea. "No, Tony. No. She wouldn't—"

She heard him banging about again, cursing. He was teething on the edge of panic. "I texted McGee," he said absently. I'm just gonna thr—oh shi—Liana?! Lee-lee? Come here, baby. Were you here the whole time?"

Ziva heard her daughter's sweet, sleepy voice and nearly cried in relief. "Where was she?"

It took Tony a minute to answer. "In our closet," he panted. "She was under your clothes."

Poor _buba_. "Put her on?"

There was a muffled exchange and then Tony said, "Hang on. I scared her, Zi."

She looked at Gibbs. "I need to go home."

His face was impassive. "You're still on the EEG."

She scowled. "Tell them to take me off."

He shrugged. "Call the nurse." Tony's voice came across the line again and he held it back to her ear. "I'll do it. You work this out."

"Thank you," she sighed. "Tony?"

"Ema?"

Ziva nearly crowed. "Hello, baby. You scared me when you weren't in bed."

Liana's voice was soft but strident. "I'm so sorry, Ema. Are you ok?"

She scowled and tried to work her hands loose. "I am, Lia-girl, and this was not your fault. I will come home today, all right?"

"Are you sure?" she worried. "You fell down and you were shaking so hard. I had to call an ambulance."

"You did a very brave, grown-up thing, my girl. I am very, very proud of you. And I have the flu, _motek_, but I will be fine. I'd like you to listen to me, though."

Liana sounded nervous. "Ok."

"I want you to go to camp today."

"No, Ema! I want to be here when you get home! I want to see you!"

"You will," she replied, feigning calm. Liana couldn't see her this way. "I will pick you up at the bus stop, just like always."

"No, Ema!" she whined. "Please! I want—"

Ziva took a breath. "Lia, if you are brave enough to take care of me then you are brave enough to go to camp. Please be a good girl for your mother."

Silence, some sniffling, then "Ok, Ema."

"My _levi'yah_. My fearless lioness. I love you very much and I will see you at four-oh-five, ok?"

"Ok," Liana replied morosely. "I love you, too."

Ziva nudged the phone away. "Get me out of here."

"Not so fast," Anya interjected, and took Ziva's temperature with a digital ear thermometer. "One-oh-two. Too high. You're staying."

She struggled among the tight sheets. "I will sign myself out."

"How? You've been having contractures since you got here."

Ziva finally got her arms out and grunted in irritation; they'd splinted her hands. She lifted one and picked at the Velcro with her teeth. "My seven-year-old is panicked. She thinks I'm dying. Page Ellen to sign me out or I will leave AMA."

Gibbs crossed his arms. "Your chair's at home, Ziver."

"_B'sheim HaShem!" _she burst, furious. "Then _bring it to me!"_

Dr. Monroe came in on rounds and planted a hand on her hip. "What's the commotion in here?" she asked, checking the monitors. "Your heart rate is way up, Ziva."

Her headache intensified. "Liana is at home and she is afraid. I need to go to her." The doctor hesitated. Ziva pressed her. "She was alone with me when it happened. Please—she is terrified. I need to be there by the time she gets home from day camp."

Dr. Monroe made a few notes. "Where's camp?"

"Rockville JCC. She gets off the bus at four. I need to be out of here by noon at the very latest."

She nodded. "How's your head?"

"I have the flu," she replied tartly. "There is nothing you can do for me. Send me home."

Dr. Monroe shrugged. "Ok. We'll get your morning meds in you and give you another forty-five minutes on the EEG. If nothing pops up then you can get out of here." She looked at Gibbs. "That means you're on duty. You ok with that?"

"If I can get a cup of coffee."

Monroe smirked. "Ok. I'll have it sent up. And some juice for you, Ziva. I don't want your blood sugar to bottom out."

Ziva pulled off the second splint. Her hands were useless: wrists tight, fingers all but claws. It would be weeks before the contractures wore off, but she extended one aching fist to rest on the doctor's hand. "Thank you," she said softly.

She nodded and gave a tiny smile. "I'm a mom, too. Take care of yourself and your daughter."

. . . .

Gibbs leaned in the door of the art studio and scanned the crowd—day campers in t-shirts, untied shoelaces, a redheaded teacher with a thousand silver bangles on her wrist. He sighed; Liana sat by herself at the back of the room, sketchbook open, pages empty. She was an anxious kid. The past day had to have been hell on her.

"Psst," he hissed.

She jumped and looked around.

"Liana."

She came over on silent feet. "Where's Ema?"

He didn't take it personally. "Get your stuff, kiddo."

She nodded and turned back. The teacher sashayed over. She had a wide, lipstick mouth. "She's having a rough day," she said gravely.

"Mom's sick." This woman didn't need to know their business.

"I know. Liana's worried. I don't think she slept last night."

She didn't know the half of it. "Kid's been through a lot."

"I know," she repeated.

Liana appeared with her knapsack and cast nervous glances at each of them. "Is Ema at home?" she asked.

He steered her gently toward the stairs. "C'mon, cub." He gave the know-it-all teacher a nod.

She was silent the whole way to the car, trotting along beside him in her sundress and sandals. He unlocked the doors and she glanced down at something clutched in her small fist. "Oh."

"What, Li?"

She held something out. He didn't recognize it. "I forgot to give this back. It's Natasha's."

"Can you return it tomorrow?"

She squinted at him. Her eyes were golden in the late morning sun. "She won't think I stole, will she?"

He popped the latch on the back door. "Doubt it. Climb in, kiddo."

She did, and nearly shrieked when she saw Ziva, propped with a pillow, holding a puke bowl in her lap. "Ema!" She dove for her, skinny little legs flying. "I missed you!"

Ziva reached for her with weak, feverish arms and chortled in Hebrew. The two of them shared some kind of strange, multilingual code—Hebrew, English, a touch of Russian. Gibbs sniffed and slammed the door. Mom-kid stuff.

"You said I had to go to camp," Liana reported.

"Didn't say you had to stay the whole day," he interrupted, and Ziva chuckled.

"I decided I could not wait until four o'clock," she amended.

She sounded crappy, Gibbs thought. Congested, wheezy. The doctor was a damned fool for sending her home.

Liana heard it, too. "You should go straight to bed when we get home," she said. "I don't want you to get worse."

"I will," Ziva agreed. "But first I will have a bath while you decide which film we will watch together. "

"I can help!" she piped.

He heard Ziva shift, embarrassed. "No, Lia-girl," she said steadily. "I need my privacy. Saba will help while you put your things away and have a snack."

Biology notwithstanding, Liana had inherited her mother's stubborn streak. "I can run the water for you."

He shot Ziva a look in the rearview mirror. She gave a tiny nod. "Ok. You can run the water."

They were quiet for a while. Gibbs pulled into the drive and Liana was the first out. "May I have the keys?" she requested.

He handed them over. She dashed away and returned seconds later, pushing Ziva's wheelchair.

Ziva shoved the door open and gave him a look. "I will need your help," she said quietly. "But do not make a thing of it."

"A _thing_?" he teased, and lifted her out of the back seat with one arm.

She fumbled with the brake levers. Liana released them for her. She went red. "Please, Liana. Do not hover."

Liana backed up, green eyes huge in her twitchy little face. "I'm sorry."

Ziva needed a running start. Gibbs gave her a push. She arched her neck and gave him a rheumy glare. "You, too."

He returned it, but took the handles when she stalled out halfway up the ramp. He bumped her through the front door. She wouldn't look at him.

Liana scurried ahead of them into the bathroom, where she cranked open the taps. "You want bubbles, Ema?" she called.

She paused, mouth a hard line. He pulled her shoes off. "Don't start," he breathed.

"Yes," she called back, struggling with her shirt. "Bubbles would be very nice."

Liana came out beaming. "I'm going to get supplies, ok? Don't forget to tell me when you're done."

Ziva smiled and nodded, but sighed as soon as she was out of earshot. "She is seven years old."

He took over and shook her out of her t-shirt and pants. "Yep."

Her legs trembled. AD would set in if she didn't hit the head ASAP. "It's not a little girl's job to play nursemaid to her mother." She rubbed her eyes with sloppy fists, pausing to punch her trembling thigh. "I need your help."

He cathed her quickly, then dunked her in the sudsy, overfull bathtub. Water sloshed on the floor. He threw a towel over it and thumbed open a bottle of shampoo. "You're all she's got, Ziver. Get your hair wet."

She tipped her head back. "I am not," she scoffed. "She has all of us."

Gibbs scrubbed her scalp. There was glue everywhere from the EEG. "Caught her sitting by herself today."

She wiped her face. "Again. I must have scared her terribly."

He rinsed and worked conditioner into her curls. "Ya think, Ziver? Don't get your stitches wet."

She prodded the railroad tracks in her bottom lip with her tongue. It took nine stitches to close the gash. "Scar?"

Gibbs lifted her out, wrapped her in a towel, rubbed her hair dry. "Nah."

"Good."

He got her into clean yoga pants and a t-shirt. There was shuffling just outside the door and Ziva quirked an eyebrow at him. "Lia?"

Silence.

"Lia? I know you are there, _buba_."

She was quiet for a minute. "Um, do you need more privacy, Ema?"

Ziva spun, propelling her chair with the heels of her clumsy hands. Her head bobbed. Gibbs put his hand on her burning hot neck. "Hey," he prodded gently. "Bed, Ziver."

"Yes," she mumbled.

He swung the door open. Liana frowned and wrung her hands. "You look bad, Ema."

She gave her a tiny smile. "I have the flu. It's just a virus, _motek_. It will pass."

Gibbs shifted her onto the mattress. She tipped against the pillows, breathing hard, and dragged her legs up on her own. He got her sleep splints out of the closet, held them up. "We should do this."

She gave him a disdainful look, but it wasn't time for a fight. "Fine," she relented.

Liana inched closer. "I can help."

He watched Ziva set her jaw and hold one hand out to her. "Go ahead, baby. Not too tight."

She smoothed her mother's tight fingers, cinched the Velcro straps, but held on for a moment, eyes wide. "Is that ok?"

Ziva's smile was forced. "Yes, Lia-girl. Thank you."

Liana looked at Gibbs. "Do we have to do both? Can't we leave one out? She won't be able to reach all the things I brought." She looked at her mother, then at him, then at the arrangement on the nightstand. Everything was in a precise line. Dress-right-dress. "I got all the supplies," she said. Her little-girl voice was high and nervous. "Her favorite hand cream and _Mary Poppins_ and a water bottle and _When Jessie Came Across the Sea_, but she won't be able to get them if you put that on. That's not fair."

He kissed her head. Her hair was thick and soft. "I'll be her legs while she's sick, kiddo, and you be her hands. Deal?"

"Deal," she whispered. She eyed the splint in his hand. "You do that one, Saba."

He gave her a wink. Ziva was drifting, but winced when he straightened her fingers and strapped them down. "You're ok, Ziver," he apologized.

She nodded, eyes closed, lashes fanned across her cheeks. Her wet hair tangled on the pillow. Maybe the kid could comb it out for her later. "Lia-_levi'yah_," she sing-songed. She didn't open her eyes. "Come—I need a _chazak_."

Liana hesitated, small mouth puckered with worry. Gibbs thought she looked a little like Ziva when she did that. Old souls, both of them. He gave her a nudge. "The helpers need to rest too, Li."

She kicked off her sandals, climbed up, and nestled beneath the blankets. Ziva threw an arm over her. Liana's fingers found her mouth. "_Laila tov, Saba," _she slurred.

He turned the AC down a few degrees and shut the blinds. "_Spokoyni nocheh_," he replied, and left the door open.

. . . .


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi! Yes, thank you. Thank you for the reviews and follows, thank you for all the kind words of welcome for my son. Thank you, Thank you, Thank you. I owe many more and they are coming, but I have baby-brain.**

**Big love,**

**Mecha**

**. . . .**

The shadows were long when Liana woke up. Ema was still asleep. A high whine from outside meant Daddy was mowing their fairytale lawn. She slid off the mattress and circled the room, smelling Ema's lotions and perfumes, sliding her fingers down the spines of all her books. Her Star of David necklace was laid out on the dresser top. Liana straightened the chain. The clasp was so small. Saba or Daddy would have to put it back on her.

She wandered into the closet. The clothes were still pushed aside from when Daddy found her. She straightened the hangers and let her hands linger on Ema's soft cotton clothes. Long sweaters and leggings in winter. Soft dresses and sandals in summer. No jeans or anything scratchy, or she would get a rash and call it _charara_. Liana got a rash like that once, when she and Lyuda were sleeping on the beach. It wasn't sunburn. Liana didn't get sunburned; her skin was a little bit brown, like Ema's. She liked that.

She touched a grey sweater, a maroon one, a teal one, and then there was a soft _oh_ from the bedroom and gagging. Her scalp prickled, but Saba's voice came next and then she could hear him taking Ema into the bathroom. That was good. He would take care of her.

Her fingers dug hard into that teal sweater and she couldn't let go. She would ruin it. Ema would be upset. Liana's stomach gurgled. She pushed the hangers aside and crawled behind the clothes, drawing her knees up under her chin.

Liana had a sketchbook in her head. She opened it and drew from memory a Zuni fetish. A mountain lion. The long back, tail curled up. Powerful paws. Turquoise eye and heartline. She shaded it paintstone-red. An offering-bundle? Maybe arrowheads for the hunt. She added depth and contour—claws, a thin mouth, ridges for ears. The right shading could bring out the southwest sun, the painted desert, the shadows of the water-fetching girls with the clay jars on their heads. Maybe she could draw an owl next and shade in the low-slung pueblos and terraces, the red clay, the sky like a lapis-blue bowl.

Liana took a breath, blinked her eyes hard, and put the cougar aside. An owl was a little easier. Feathers like a cat's ears. Talons. Short legs tucked beneath the opaline body. Abalone heart line. Red-red, but a turquoise eye because...because. She cut in feathers with Picasso marble and—

"Lia-girl?"

The drawings were gone. She didn't want to start over.

"Liana? Come out please, _buba_."

She gulped and thought about Lyuda. Her ice-blue eyes and knotty, track-marked hands. No. No no. She was gone. _Breathe_, she commanded. "Ema?"

"Can you come out, baby?"

She did, creeping on her knees between her mother's soft sweaters. They smelled clean and flowery. Ema smelled like toothpaste and medicine. She stroked Liana's cheek with the back of her knuckles. "Why were you hiding, my sweet girl?"

"I don't know," she admitted. She didn't. Not really.

Ema pulled her closer. The top of her tire bit Liana's side. "I am ok, _motek_," she whispered. "I promise. You protected me and took care of me and I am tremendously proud of you. _Tremendously_. I know you know what that means." She kissed Liana's cheeks and brow, smoothed her hair.

Liana crawled into her lap and pressed her face against Ema's hot neck.

"My baby," she cooed. "I love when you climb on me." Liana held on tighter. Ema did, too. "Saba told me you were sitting by yourself in drawing class," she whispered.

"I was being careful of germs."

She got a stern look. "You need to sit with your friends, Liana. It's important. Promise me you will try again."

She lifted one shoulder. She couldn't look at Ema. "I don't like camp."

"Then quit," her mother said simply, but then she asked: "What would you like to do instead?"

Liana peered into her dark, wet eyes. "I want to stay home with you."

Ema bit her lower lip. She did that when she was thinking. "I want you to make one friend before you start school. Should we call...what was her name?"

"Anna." Anna liked to write poetry and swing swings. She had thick brown hair she wore in two braids and always wore a dress and tights.

"Anna," Ema repeated. "Maybe she would like to come over and swim one afternoon."

"After you're better," Liana finished for her.

She giggled her raspy giggle. "Yes. Until then we are under strict quarantine." She pushed Liana's hair back again. Ema's hands were horrible and hurt. Why were they were so soft on Liana's head? "You did not eat dinner. Are you hungry?"

"No." Her stomach was upset.

"Maybe a smoothie?"

She shrugged. Ema thought she was tricking Liana by putting kale in with the fruit and ice cream. "Ok."

Daddy was in the kitchen, still sweaty from mowing and trimming their big, green lawn. He smiled at them. The blender was already out. "I'm making frog's-eyes smoothies," he said. "Want one?"

She thought about frog parts all swirling around and felt her stomach flip. "Gross, Daddy."

"Newt's-face, then. Want extra snake-milk ice cream?" That just made her laugh. He scooped frozen mango out of a white box. "Chicken feet?"

"Chicken livers," she teased.

Ema made a face. "Enough, you two."

She got serious. "Sorry."

Ema patted her legs. Liana crawled up again. "It is fine, my Lia-girl. You will need a bath when you're done."

The blender roared, and then Daddy handed her a cup. Mango, berries, ice cream. It took a long time to drink the whole thing. How could she be tired after such a long nap?

Ema tugged her hand. "Come, _cholmani_. It is _my _turn to run _your_ bath."

Liana followed. Her feet were heavy. She let her mother choose her pajamas and wash her hair and face. Like always, Ema kissed her fingers—her knuckles, really—and pressed them to the scars on Liana's neck and arms. Cigarettes, a pocketknife, once a glass pipe, though she didn't know that at the time. Not until she went to the group home, where one of the other kids saw it and said, _crack baby, _and everyone laughed.

Ema sighed. "So many difficult lives you've lived, my Lia-girl."

Liana had bad days sometimes, and maybe this was one of them. "Lyuda was mean," she whispered, and tried to cover up before she stood.

Ema wrapped her in a big towel. "I know," she murmured. "And I am so sorry she hurt you."

"We were homeless."

She nodded and dried Liana's hair with another towel. "I know, baby."

"We slept on the beach and in the park. We got bitten by a lot of bugs." She wanted to bite her tongue. "And I got a rash once because it was so hot."

She wanted to throw up; Ema wasn't supposed to know these things. She pulled Liana close again, and now they shared the scent of her honey soap. "Tell me more, my lioness."

Liana shivered. The air conditioning was colder than usual. Saba probably turned it down. "Sometimes we stayed in shelters but Lyuda didn't like them. She said Screamers could get us."

Ema tugged a soft striped pajama top over Liana's head, pausing to untangle her hair. "Who?"

"Bad guys."

"Hmmm," Ema said. She gathered Liana's hair and wrapped it once around her hand. "And they are dangerous?"

She nodded. "They're scary."

Ema's breathing changed. "And did any of them hurt you?"

Liana bit her lip. "No," she said. Why did she feel like she was lying?

"I wish things had been different for you," Ema said. Her raspy voice was tight. She stopped and licked the stitches in her lip. "But if they had been, then you might not be here and I do not know if I could imagine my life without you." She cocked her head. "I could, yes, but it would be...incomplete. Lonely. And I feel terrible for saying that."

Liana hugged her. She didn't want it to be another way, even if Lyuda quit those drugs. She wasn't warm like Ema, or soft. She didn't talk nicely. She didn't kiss Liana's cheek and pull down the quilt and say, "In, my girl. There are dark moons under your beautiful eyes."

She got in. The sheets were cool and soft. She used to sleep on a bed of trash bags and wake sweating and hungry. Her birthmother's pinched, angry face appeared and Liana pressed her fingers over her eyes. _Stop_, she commanded. You_ are supposed to be gone._

Ema clicked off the lamp. The nightlight glowed red through Liana's eyelids. "_Laila tov_, my baby," she whispered.

Daddy was there, too. He put his big hand on her head. "_Buonanotte, principessa_."

They played this game every night, but tonight was no good. Liana had to make sure Ema didn't have a seizure. She had to make sure Saba was there and Daddy would clean up. "No," she started, but Ema hushed.

Daddy sang, _goodnight sweetheart, well it's time to go_.

"No," she said again. Was Saba there? Would he stay up?

"_Laila tov, _my lioness."

Liana's arms were heavy. Were her hands bad fists like Ema's? She tried to look. Ema shushed over and over. _Sha, baby_.

And Daddy sang and sang:

_I hate to leave you but I really must say._

_ Goodnight, sweetheart. Goodnight._

. . . .

Tony stumbled out of the shower and barely remembered to snag a towel. He brushed his teeth hard enough to draw blood and examined his face in the mirror; no razor-cuts, and the dark circles would probably disappear with his second cup of coffee.

He wrapped a towel-skirt and made his way into the walk-in. No suit; his dry-clean-only days ended when he became a father. He threw on trousers and a button-down, and nearly jumped out of both of them when a small cough came from beneath the rack. He ran a hand over his face, schooled his features. "Liana?"

Nothing.

He peered between hangers, trying not to startle her. "Lee-lee? C'mon out, sweetheart."

She coughed again. "Are you dressed?"

"Yeah. How long you been in here?"

"I didn't see."

"Wasn't worried about that."

Liana climbed out from between her mother's winter clothes, hair staticky and tangled, face sleep-creased. SHe blinked her wet, worried eyes. "Is Ema ok?"

Tony forewent the tie. "She's asleep. Ya ok?"

She nodded and craned her neck toward the bedroom. "I heard her throwing up."

_Which time? _he wondered. "Yeah, she was feeling pretty gross, but she'll be better today or tomorrow."

Liana still didn't look at him. "Did you give her Compazine? That makes nausea go away. I know we have it—I saw when Saba go—"

He crouched and took both of her hands in his. They were small and sweaty. Her cuffs had been chewed. "Hey," he said softly. "Look at me, Lee-lee." She did, but dropped her gaze immediately. He touched her cheek. "Do you feel scared right now?"

She didn't look up. "Yeah."

"Are you worried that Ema is going to...ya know, disappear?"

Her bottom lip trembled. She crossed her arms, and Tony almost gasped; was she really so _little_? "Lee-lee," he cooed. "Ema is not going to leave you." She shifted toward him and leaned on his knee. He drew her down to sit on his lap. "Your mom is one tough cookie, kiddo. Some flu isn't going to take her out."

"She fell," Liana whispered.

"And she'll probably do it again. She's wobbly even though she just sits around all day."

She humored him, gave a tiny smile that didn't reach her eyes. They were more golden than his. A little more like Ziva's. She'd be proud to know that. "My..." she began, but stopped and swallowed. Her fingers grazed her throat. "Lyuda was mean."

Liana never referred to her birthmother as anything but her first name. Tony hugged her tight, propped his chin on her head. Her _hot _head. Was that flu making the rounds? "I'm sorry, Lee-lee. I wish she'd known not to hurt you."

"She would tease me," she continued, voice small. "She would say we were going to move to an apartment but we wouldn't."

_Keep talking_, he pleaded silently. _Let it out, kid_.

"Or she would take me to a shelter, but then she would wake me up in the night and we would leave. She was afraid that the other people would steal her stuff or hurt us."

Paranoia, likely narcissism. Drug-induced? Lyuda had been a user. "That wasn't fair."

"We slept in the park or by the beach. There were so many bugs. I got a rash and a headache and someone said it was from mosquito bites."

Tony frowned. Malaria? Dengue? Yellow fever? The pediatrician didn't know for sure. He kissed her brow. "Does your head hurt now?"

Liana hesitated, nodded. "A little."

"You're warm."

She relaxed against him. He snuggled her tightly, put his mouth against her hair. It was thick and soft and hung nearly to her waist. Was that her Russian blood, or something else?

"Lyuda was mean when I got sick." Tony waited, straining to hear as though she was very far away. "Once we were eating lunch at the big church. I threw up and she _yelled_ at me in front of _everyone_. I was embarrassed."

"I'll bet," he agreed. "That wasn't fair for her to do that. You were only little."

"I was four."

Four. The year she'd been abandoned on the steps of that firehouse in the Everglades. How long had they walked from Miami to get there? "A baby," he said.

Liana turned to him, eyes dark and furious. "I was _not_."

"You are so brilliant, Li, and brave and wise, but a four-year-old is a baby and no one should leave a baby on the steps of a fire station in the middle of the night. Alone."

She was quiet for a long time. So was he. "She took my shoelace," she said softly. "And she tied one side to my wrist and the other side to the door handle. And then kissed me and said she had to go."

Tony bit the inside of his cheek. _Don't you cry, DiNozzo._

"She never kissed me before that."

His eyes burned.

"But she kissed me that time and then I never, ever saw her again."

He buried his face against her neck. She had soft, babyish skin. Ziva used some organic soap in her bath and she always smelled like honey and lavender. "What happened after that, sweetheart?"

One thin shoulder rose. "I had to wait a long time for someone to come."

"How long?" His voice was rough.

"Until it was really hot."

"Then what happened?"

"A fireman took me inside and gave me juice. A paramedic made sure I was ok. And then a social worker came from the city to take me to a shelter for kids until they did all the paperwork and went to court and stuff."

He sat on the floor, cross-legged, and pulled her down with him. "How long did you stay there?"

She blinked and chewed her lip. "I don't remember. A few days, I think."

He couldn't let go of her. "Was it awful?"

Liana shrugged. "I was really hungry and they gave me a lot of food."

"Mm." Her growth was stunted. He'd seen the doctor's notes—_lack of proper nutrition pre-and post-natal. 12-18 mo. grow. retardation. Endo. funct. normal. Development normal. Gifted, anxious._

She twisted to look at his face. "Do you think she's really dead?"

"I don't know," he admitted.

She turned again to put her head on his shoulder. "The judge said she was, but no one found her."

Tony couldn't believe the next question out of his own mouth. "Want me to check it out?"

She shook her head. "Please don't go to Florida."

"I can have Abby do a few quick searches from the lab. No travel."

She nodded uncertainly. "Ok." She frowned. "Do you think my dad was a trick?"

He about swallowed his tongue. "I don't know, little lioness."

"I don't want to be some stupid trick's baby."

"You're not, Lee-lee. You're _our_ baby."

Her frown deepened. "I wish I lived in Ema's belly and not Lyuda's."

"Me, t—" He began, but Ziva called from the bed.

"Tony?"

Liana's pale face lit up. She leapt from his arms and bolted to the bedside. "Ema! Do you feel better?"

"I feel better anytime I see you, Lia-girl." She kissed her head. "You need Tylenol and I need to use the bathroom. Can I have a moment please?"

Liana nodded. Ziva held out her arms to Tony, and he transferred her easily into the waiting wheelchair. She hung on tight and looked nearly as pale as she had in the hospital.

"Need help?" he offered.

She pecked him on the cheek. "Where is Abba?"

"Here," he said, stalking in. He smelled like grass and water sealant. Probably slapped another coat on the new deck before the sun could dry it on the roller. "C'mon, Ziver. Hit the head."

She cast an urgent glance at Tony. "Get her Tylenol, please."

He did, measured out precisely the dosage Liana required, and returned to find her sitting alone in the bed, holding the blankets near her face. "Didn't mean for everyone to bail on you," he apologized. Did she look worse than before? "Here. This will help with the headache."

She took it without making a face. "Please don't tell Ema what I said."

"Maybe you should."

She averted her eyes. "Maybe."

He bent low, kissed the crown of her head. "You're not going to break her, Lee-lee. I have to go to work. I want you to eat something and rest. No camp."

She rubbed her eyes and yawned. "Ema said I didn't have to go anymore."

He almost groaned aloud. "Tell me about that when I come home. I love you. Feel better, my lioness."

He kissed her head one last time, poured a travel mug of coffee, and snagged his keys and go-bag from the hallway bench. Outside, the air was cool. Fall was coming. Only a few weeks remained until his daughter would wait for the school bus at the end of their drive, lunch in hand, only to ride away to second grade, multiplication, playground politics. _Please_, he asked, unlocking the charger. _Let her get her sea legs by then_.

He got his bag in the trunk only to hear the front door bang open. Liana careened across the lawn barefoot and in her little-girl pajamas. She wrapped herself around his legs. "I love you, Daddy," she said. "Have a good day."

He hugged her back. She smiled up at him, and dashed away, pausing to wave from the porch. "Bye!" she called. "Bye! I love you!"

Tony pulled into the street and waved and waved and waved.

. . . .

Liana and Ema read _Little House in the Big Woods_ together. They read about slaughtering the pig and Pa shooting the deer. They read about the smokehouse and the dance and about churning butter. Churning. That's what Liana's stomach did when she turned over to find a cool spot in her parents' big bed. Her hand brushed the sharp Velcro on Ema's hand splint and she pulled back fast.

Too late. Ema sighed. Her eyes opened a tiny bit. "Lia?"

"Hi," she whispered. Her throat burned.

Ema clucked. "My poor sick _buba_. I am so sorry."

"I'm ok," she tried to say, but the words stuck like peanut butter in her throat. Peanut butter. _Ew_. Her stomach made more noises.

Ema sat up. She sorta hung in the air. Her head bobbed around. "Are you going to throw up, baby?"

_No_, she wanted to say, but there was a hot rush in her chest and then bubbling in the back of her throat. Ema locked her forearms under Liana's armpits and dragged her across the bed to hang her head over the edge. There was a bucket below. Liana was careful to puke only inside it. _Good_, she thought when nothing splashed on the bed or night table. Only a little mess to clean up later.

Ema put her hot hand on Liana's head. "That's right, _buba_. You get it all out."

Liana heaved again, embarrassed. "I'm sorry," she said, and her voice sounded so awful. She slithered off the bed and stood. Her knees wobbled. _Don't fall, Stupid._ "I'm sorry, Ema."

"_Sha_, now," she replied, and nudged the bucket aside. She swung her legs out.

Liana reached out with one hand and wiped her face with the other. "No! Wait for Saba! You can get _hurt_, Ema!"

She tossed her sleep-splints aside and hopped into her chair. She had to stop and close her eyes. "_Sha_, Liana," she shushed. "_Sha_. It is fine. I am ok, but I am worried about you. Let's clean you up and find fresh _fig'ma'ot_, yes?" She held her arms out. "Climb up, my wobbly fawn."

Liana held her breath. Wasn't Ema angry? "I'm ok," she fumbled.

She leaned forward, snagged her pajama shirt, and pulled her close. "No, you will come with me. I am your _ema_. Now climb up, please."

Ema's skin was warm beneath her pajamas and she felt her body lean in as though it had a mind of it's own. Liana had always had a mind of her own. Was that why Lyuda had walked away?

She settled. Ema pulled her hair aside and kissed one of the scars on her nape. "There," she cooed like Liana was a baby. "Now it is time for clean PJs."

Ema took them both across the hall. Liana's shades were still drawn. She left them that way and went straight for the dresser. "Open the drawer, please. Let's find something else because you have sweated through what you are wearing. Want to pick?"

Liana had a million pajamas. She had a million of _everything_. Why couldn't she decide?

Ema did it for her and reached for a striped set at the very end. "Arms up," she commanded, and yanked off Liana's top, only to replace it just as quickly with the clean one. Exchanging pants required a bit of wiggling, but Ema did most of it herself and whipped them toward the hallway.

Saba met them at the island with a plate of toast and a bottle of sports drink. He offered the drink first. "Heroics?"

Ema nodded and held the bottle to Liana's mouth. "Drink, baby," she prodded. She sipped. It washed away the throw-up taste.

"Ya all right, cub?" Saba asked.

Was she? Yes. She nodded.

"Good." He put his hand on Ema's shoulder. "I'll take care of the mess. You take care of your kid."

She gave him her cheeky smile and turned back to Liana with the bottle of Gatorade. "Drink more."

Liana sipped again. Her stomach wasn't so furious now. She leaned back. Ema reached around her to the plate of toast, tore off a tiny piece, and pressed it to Liana's mouth. "Eat, my baby."

She stiffened. "I'm not—"

"_Sha_. Eat."

The toast was warm and squishy with butter and went down easily. Ema fed her two more pieces. Was this silly, sitting on her mother's lap, being fed like a bird? Was it stupid? Lyuda would say so. She would probably shout at Liana for being such a pest. A _parazit_. So ungrateful.

A strange heaviness settled over her. Her head hurt. Her stomach felt tender. Her arms were heavy, and she looked at her hands to make sure they weren't bad fists. Would they be like that ever? She hoped not and then felt bad because was it so awful to be like Ema? Maybe not.

She propped her chin on Liana's shoulder. "Are you ok?"

Yes. No. Was she still in her mother's lap?

"Lia-_levi'yah_," she sighed. "My baby."

Liana's heart pumped _ema ema ema _and then her stupid mouth opened and she blurted, "I wish I grew in your tummy and not Lyuda's."

Ema gasped.

She braced herself. _You can yell, _she promised silently. _But please no hitting._

Ema did neither. Her hands were soft when she brushed Liana's cheek and cuddled her close-close. "My _buba_," she cooed. "I am so sorry your birthmother treated you badly. She hurt you and abandoned you and that is not ok. I understand why you might hate her or _think _you hate her, but had you been born to Daddy and me then you would be different, my Lia-girl, and I do not want you to be different. I love you the way you are."

Liana turned around, careful not to jostle too much, and wrapped both arms around her mother's neck. She buried her face beneath her dark hair and breathed in hard. Ema smelled so sweet and clean.

"You feel very _different_," Ema said softly.

She nodded. Her skin was prickling all over. Was it ok to cry about this?

"I know it is very hard to be different. It is hard to feel like everyone is staring."

She nodded again with her face still hidden. "Would I be like you if I was your baby?"

She felt Ema frown without having to look. "_Like me_? Do you mean disabled, Lia?"

Was that a dumb question? "Um, yes?"

Ema sighed. Her shoulders rose and fell and Liana snuggled in more. "No, Lia-girl. I was injured in an accident. There is no way I could pass my paralysis on to you."

The accident was the reason Ema needed a wheelchair. It was why she needed help with stuff. It was why she had that terrible, terrible seizure from the flu and germs and camp. "You fell," she said, and it sounded like she was accusing. "You fell and I thought...I thought you were going to die."

Ema stroked Liana's long hair. Maybe she would ask to cut it. "I am so sorry that happened while we were alone. I wish I could take it back."

"I thought you were going to die," she repeated. Her mouth was numb. She was crying now and probably ruining everything. "I didn't want you to die. I didn't..."she paused to gulp and catch her breath. "I didn't want to be alone again." She was throwing up again, but words this time. "Lyuda was so mean but she was better than being by myself."

Ema hummed and stroked her hair again. "Tell me more, my lioness."

Liana couldn't look at her face. "She would tease me. She would say we had a house but we didn't."

"That was cruel."

"And she would take me to a shelter but then she would make me leave after lights-out because she was afraid those people would hurt us. And then we would walk all night so she could get drugs. I never got to sleep."

"Awful. You must have been so tired all the time."

She nodded. Was it _her_ chest that ached so much? "And we would go to a church to eat but she wouldn't let me take anything in the line. She would say she was getting food for both of us but it was always all hers." Her stomach cramped, but the toast stayed down. She cried harder yet. Why wasn't Ema angry with her? "I was so _hungry."_

"I know. I am so sorry. I wish someone had made sure you were eating."

"I got sick from the mosquitos."

"I know. That's why the doctor takes your blood occasionally. We need to make sure your liver and kidneys stay healthy."

It took a long time to calm down enough to breathe. Ema only stayed still-still and sometimes petted Liana's hair. She sighed. She was tired. "She left me."

Ema was quiet for a long time. "I know," she finally said.

"She tied me to the door and kissed me and left. I didn't know where she went." She sat back. Ema's face was wet like she'd been crying. "I am glad she's dead."

Ema said nothing for a long time, then she dried Liana's face with a towel and brushed crumbs away from her mouth. "Please do not say that," she chided softly. Her eyes were all over Liana—her hair, her snug PJ shirt, her face. "Please do not say that," she repeated. "She gave you life, Lia-_levi'yah_. You do not have to love her, but _please_...do not say _that_."

Liana cried again and squirmed to get down; she was ruining all the soft things Ema said. She would take it all back. She and Daddy would ask her to leave. Saba would pack her a bag, and then Liana would walk down their leaf-green street all the way back to Florida. All the way back to the mosquitos and dead-swamp Lyuda. All the way back to turning tricks. Liana gagged. The toast came up that time and she fell back against Ema's cabinets full of expensive pots and pans and cried and cried.

There was some commotion. She could hear Saba's voice, and then Ema's—was she crying, too?—and then she was lifted on the floor and placed in a lap. She struggled, but Ema's bad hands held her tight. Was she done crying?

Were they going to make her go? Lyuda's wasted face appeared and she gasped, only to have Saba rub her head.

"Hang on there, little wildcat. You and Mom are going back to bed."

Saba always called Ema _Mom_.

He ran water and Ema held a cup to her lips. She drank and drank. The cup emptied and was refilled. She drank more. Medicine was offered and she drank that, too, only to have more water appear.

"Enough," Saba said. "Don't make her sick again, Ziver."

Ema's soft voice said something back, something sharp-she didn't like to be told what to do—and then Liana was turned around and they went back down the hallway to the big bedroom.

There were clean sheets on the bed. There were always clean sheets on all of their beds.

"In," Ema urged, and gave Liana a little push. "You need to sleep. I know it."

She crawled on her hands and knees until she collapsed with her face on a pillow. Was it night? Sleeping was for nights, not days. "I don't wan—"

"In," Ema said again.

Liana would not disobey. She pulled the covers up—way up—and they was warm and soft. So were Ema's hands on hers. Weren't they still all bad fists? Ema sang softly:

_Echad—mi yode'ah?_

_Echad—ani yode'ah._

_Echad Hashem al she'mayim u'v'aretz._

That was a baby song, Liana thought. From Passover, when the Shilton boys sang it out loud and banged their spoons on the table. Everyone thought it was funny—even her-and she did not like banging.

Ema touched her hand to Liana's again.

_Shnaim—mi yode'ah?_

_Shnaim?—ani yode'ah._

_Shnaim luchot ha'brit._

_Echad Hashem al she'mayim u'v'aretz._

One god in heaven? Perhaps, Liana thought. Would Lyuda make it there? Was she bad on the inside, or had it been the drugs? Maybe she was just sad and the drugs had made her feel happy. But she did terrible things, so maybe not.

Two tablets of the covenant? _Brit_ meant "promise," Ema said. Abraham promised his son Isaac to God because he believed with his whole self. And tablets? Hadn't Moses smashed the first set because everyone was acting so terrible? Maybe they were like Lyuda, who broke her promises all the time. Ema and Daddy and Saba never broke promises. They always did what they said and Liana never felt bad. She felt bad now, though. Her head hurt. Her stomach was full of glass. So was her throat.

_Arba imahot, _Ema sang. She touched four fingers to Liana's.

_ Shlosh avot,_

_ Shnei luchot ha'brit_

_ Echad Hashem al she'mayim u'v'aretz._


	3. Chapter 3

**SUCH thoughtful feedback! Thank you so much! Big love.**

. . . .

It was a long, slow swim up from sleep. There had been so many fever dreams—snapping alligators, a woman walking into the ocean, a crying Liana torn from Ziva's feeble, aching arms. Persistent throbbing behind her eyes. A storm-tossed feeling in her stomach.

"Ema?"

She squinted. Liana's golden eyes were fever-bright, her cheeks red, mouth chapped. _Sick_, Ziva diagnosed. And her fault. "Hm, baby?"

"Did you have a bad dream?"

"I may have," she evaded. "But it is not your job to take care of me, _motek_. _I_ am the _ema_. I am to care for _you_."

"But you're sick, too!" Liana cried. Her voice broke. She closed her eyes, but one tear slid across her temple and dampened the pillowcase.

Ziva drew her closer, rumpling the sheets, twisting Liana's pajamas around her middle. Her top rode up and there were more of the same small, round, burn scars on her back and side. She touched each one with her tight, white knuckles and hummed a little tune. "My Lia-girl. Tell me about these."

"They're nothing."

She gave her daughter her sternest look. "Do not lie, Liana."

Liana swallowed roughly. "Lyuda didn't like if I didn't pay attention."

Ziva remained dry-eyed. "So she burned you for punishment?"

She nodded. "She smoked all the time. And do you know what? Sometimes I think she hurt me just for fun. I think she liked to see if she could make me cry."

Ziva ground her molars. "I do not like when you cry, Liana. All I want to do is make it better."

Liana blinked and sniffled. "Tell me my story, Ema."

"Tell me first about when you were taken into care," she countered. "When you moved from the shelter to the group home—what was it like there?"

She threw her arm over her mother's middle. Ziva moved it to where she could feel. "It was ok," Liana said quietly. "I had my own bed for the first time. I had blankets and some new clothes. I went to the dentist and the doctor. I got shots."

Ziva traced her daughter's ski-slope nose with her index knuckle. "Did you share your room?"

"With three other girls."

"Did you get along with them?"

Liana retreated without moving. "They were older than me. I got their hand-me-downs."

"Were they kind to you?"

Liana finally looked at her mother. "They showed me stuff, like how to borrow books from the library and how to take the school bus. Yoselie gave me her old chapter books."

"That was kind," Ziva reminded gently. Those social cues slipped right past Liana sometimes.

"Yeah," she conceded. "But she left soon after I got there."

"Where did she go?"

She shrugged. Her gaze wandered. "Lots of big kids run away." Her eyes found Ziva's face again. "_I_ wouldn't run away."

"I'm glad to know that," she replied. "I would be devastated if you left. How did you learn you would be placed with us?"

"Rochelle," Liana sighed, and nuzzled her face against Ziva's chest. "She called my foster mom and said she wanted to meet me. First I thought I was going to move to another group home, but then she said _permanency plan _and I knew it was a real home."

Ziva liked _real_. "How did you feel?"

"_Scaredyouwouldn'tlikeme."_

Ziva clucked and touched their foreheads together. "I loved you from the moment I saw your photograph."

She felt Liana smile. "Tell me the story, Ema."

"Well, we had _just_ gotten our foster-adopt license and the clinical staff was signing off on our home study..."

"No!" she interrupted. She put both hands on her mother's cheeks. "The _whole thing_, Ema."

Ziva rubbed their noses together. "Well, your Daddy and I got married and we decided that we didn't want to _make_ a baby, we wanted to adopt a baby who needed a home."

Liana sighed a shuddery, wiggly sigh. "That's my favorite part," she whispered.

She feigned surprise. "Oh? Should I stop now?"

"No!"

"So we called _two _agencies, but neither of them would grant a foster license to a disabled parent."

Liana's hands were hot and sticky. Ziva moved them away from her face but didn't let go. "That's not fair."

"I know. So we hired a lawyer and he sued the state of Maryland for not permitting us to become foster-adopt parents. We won. Then an agency—"

"JAFCO!"

She kissed Liana's cheek. "Yes, JAFCO called Daddy and me and asked to do our home study. We had interviews and a home inspection. We had to take CPR and first aid courses, and get background clearances, and when all of the paperwork was done we entered the Child Match phase. That's when I got the password for the website with all the photos. I did not like the idea of shopping for a child, but I could not help myself."

Liana put her fingers in her mouth and blinked at Ziva. A tiny bit of innocence remained in her eyes. "Then what?"

"And then it was late one night and I could not sleep, so I got online and started looking through the photos. I looked at photos of children in care in Maryland and Virginia, in Georgia, and then in Florida, but yours was the only one I fell in love with. I called Saba over to show him."

"Why not Daddy?" She was asking, Ziva realized, not accusing.

"Because he is not like Saba and me—he sleeps at night. He has to because he works so hard during the day."

"So do you."

"Yes, but I do not sleep well. I never have. Saba is awake...almost always, actually."

"Yeah," Liana agreed. "Keep going?"

Ziva smiled, remembering. "Saba came, and we read your little biography together. We talked about how bright it said you were, how thoughtful, how responsible and sweet. I knew you were perfect, Lia-girl."

She felt Liana stiffen in her arms. "I'm not—"she started, but Ziva cut her off.

"Perfect for _us_. And I thought you were so beautiful that I could barely contain myself. I printed two copies of that photo. I put one in the kitchen and one by my bed and I looked at them every second I could while I waited for Rochelle to call about my inquiry. She said _yes_ right away and emailed us your referral. Then I showed that photo to everyone—Abby, McGee, Palmer, Ducky, Adi—_everyone_, Liana."

Liana didn't take her fingers from her mouth. "What did the referral say?"

"You _know_ what it says, my lioness. It said you are very smart and very responsible but _very_ anxious."

Her breathing changed. "I'm sorry."

"It is not your fault."

Liana's eyelashes tickled Ziva just below her collarbone. "I took medicine for a while. BuSpar. It helped."

"Do you need to go back on it, Lia-_levi'yah_?"

"I don't know," she admitted quietly.

"It might make school easier. Or making friends."

She hugged Ziva tightly. "I don't know," she repeated. "Can you keep going, please?"

"Daddy and I read the referral together, and then I gathered some things the file said you liked—books, crayons, a sketchpad—and made that photo book for you and shipped it overnight to Liberty House. I wanted you to have it to travel."

"Then we Skyped."

"We did," she chuckled. "I was so nervous. I cleaned your room five times. _Ten_ times. I made Saba take me shopping for clothes for you."

Liana nodded. "He hates shopping."

"I know, but he was so patient with me."

"I have lots of stuff."

"I love to buy for you. What did you think when we talked that first time, Lia-girl?"

"That I wanted you to like me." She craned her neck. "That you were so pretty."

Ziva flushed, but not from fever. "Thank you, my sweet girl," she whispered. "That is mutual."

"Then I went to the airport _so_ early in the morning."

Ziva exhaled and smiled. It felt good to remember these things. "I called Rochelle three times before six am. I wanted to know who had you, who was bringing you, where you were seated on the plane, that you had the things we sent so you would not be bored. I was a nervous wreck. And we drove to the airport and waited and _waited_ for you to come down the jetway."

"I had to wait for the flight attendant to finish her work," Liana lamented. "It got really hot on the plane." Ziva stretched her hands. They opened only as big as Liana's palm, but she used one to sweep her daughter's hair back. Liana sighed. "That feels good."

"You are hot now. I will get you more Tylenol in a moment."

"When you finish."

She smiled. "Yes. I thought you were so _little_, Liana, but then you hugged me and you were very strong and sturdy. I was happy for that."

"You held me for a long time," Liana said seriously.

Ziva did it again, pressing her daughter tight against her side. "I did. I wanted to hold you forever. I still do, my baby."

They fell silent. Ziva could hear Gibbs banging around in the kitchen. Slamming cupboards, the clank of a pot on the stove. He was trying to wake them. It would be dinner time soon.

"I'm not a baby," Liana said slowly.

"I am your _ema,_" she chided gently, and gave her another squeeze. "You are _my_ baby."

She squirmed. "I'm _seven_."

"Yes, you are _seven_, but there were many years that you missed, Lia-_lev'iyah_. There were many years that you were not one, or two, or three, but a grownup in a very small body. It was not fair to be made to skip those years. They are important. I wish I could give them back to you, but until McGee patents his time-traveling machine we are stuck here. Speaking of stuck-I need to turn over."

Liana crab-walked away. Ziva grew cold. She swallowed a vague, ephemeral panic and egg-rolled onto her right side. Her legs trembled. "I need to use the bathroom, baby."

She scrambled off the bed. "Don't get up. Wait for me to get Saba." Ziva opened her mouth to protest, but Liana's face drained of color and she thrust her hands out before her. "Ema, please _wait!"_

She relented. "Hurry, _motek_."

Liana scurried away. Ziva's head throbbed harder. Her pulse raced. An endless minute ticked by, and then Gibbs was there. He hauled her into her wheelchair and give her a shove toward the master bath.

"Get in there," he growled. "You waited too damned long again, Ziver. When are you going to learn?"

She fought the urge to ram him with her jerking knees. "Do _not _scold me in front of my daughter," she hissed. "It makes you sound like a _shmendrik_."

He tried to close the bathroom door, but Liana burst through it, pale and panicking. "Don't, Saba!" she squeaked. "I can help!"

Gibbs threw a towel over Ziva's lap, but it was too late. "Liana, no! I need my privacy."

"I want to help!" she shrilled.

"It is not ok for you to see this," Ziva maintained. She was panicking, too. "You must go out straight away and wait for me."

Liana collapsed in a clatter of knees and elbows. She sobbed in a heap on the floor, pale face pressed to the tile. Her nose ran. She coughed and gagged. "Please!"

Ziva gripped Gibbs' shoulders, furious. "Hurry _up_," she snarled through her teeth.

He tossed the bag and tube in the trash. "Done. Get your kid."

Ziva slid carefully to the floor and pulled Liana into her arms. "Sha, baby," she cooed. "It's ok."

Liana hiccupped and shuddered, smearing mucus on Ziva's sleeve. "I want to help."

"We will find something for you," she promised softly. "Ok, _motek_?"

She nodded, still sobbing.

Ziva cuddled her close, kissed her tangled hair. "My brave lioness."

"Ema," she sputtered, and broke into a fresh wave of tears. "_My_ Ema."

She was torn between crying and pumping her fist in the air. "That is right. I am _your ema_ forever."

Liana cried a while longer. Water ran in the kitchen. The front door opened and closed. Tony was home. Ziva had missed him. "Lia-girl?" she asked. "Your Daddy is home. Should we go welcome him?"

She snuffled and sucked her fingers, face pressed to Ziva's bicep. "_My_ daddy," she blurted.

"All yours. You do not even have a sibling to share us."

Liana moaned softly. Her hiccups had slowed. Tony padded in, having changed into shorts and a t-shirt, and immediately went to his knees beside them. He pulled Ziva against him. She went, sighing. "Lee-lee," he said lowly. "Why are you crying?"

"I want to help," she cried.

He rested one hand on her head and the other on Ziva's hip. "Ok," he said mildly. "Let's make a chore chart."

Liana shook her head. "No, I want to help Ema."

He stroked her cheek. "We'll think of ways to do that. Saba made chicken soup. Want some?"

She gripped Ziva's arms tightly, leaving marks. "I want to stay with Ema."

"I am hungry," she lied. "And I am sure Saba made your favorite recipe."

Tony reached for Liana. She balked and put her fingers in her mouth. "Ema."

He backed off. Ziva thanked him with a tiny nod. "Ok. She's all yours. Should I bring soup in here?"

Ziva's stomach turned. "No, we eat at the table. Liana? Up please, _motek_, so I can get up."

She eased away, drying her cheeks on her sleeve. Tony picked Ziva up and plunked her in her wheelchair. He maneuvered her feet onto the footplate and brushed his lips against her brow. "You're still really warm."

She gave him a sharp look. "It's the _flu_."

"And you're on the verge of AD. Be careful."

"Yeah," Liana chimed in. "Be careful, Ema."

She patted her legs. Her girl climbed up. "Hold tight, please."

Gibbs had already blended Liana's portion and poured it into a child-sized mug. Ziva tested the temperature before holding it to Liana's mouth. "Here," she whispered. "It's already smooth for you."

Tony sat next to them at the wide dining table. "Want a straw?"

"No thank you."

He put her fat file before them. "Did you talk to Ema about what we talked about?"

"No," she said into her cup. She looked at Ziva, golden eyes still wet and worried. "I'm sorry."

Ziva pushed her hair back. "Do not apologize. Can you tell me now?"

She swallowed more soup and cast her eyes around the room. "I don't know what happened to Lyuda," she finally said. "The police said she died but no one ever told me how."

She clucked. "Why did you not want me to know that?"

Liana turned around and buried her face in Ziva's neck. He hair was damp. "I thought you would be mad at me."

Ziva cradled her like a baby. "Never, my lioness."

Tony opened the folder and spun it so she could see. "Your mom passed away, Lee-lee. A man walking his dog found her under a banyan tree. Do you know this place?"

The photo was a landscape of Lummus Park and the beach beyond. A banyan tree hosted someone's laundry. Two children played paddleball on the sand. Liana studied the photo, brows knit, fingers laced around her blue mug. Her eyes were dry. "We slept there all the time. We spread out trash bags under one of the trees so we didn't get sand fleas. Did she overdose?"

"Yeah."

She nodded, still studying the photo. "Was she alone?"

Tony cleared his throat. "She was when that man found her, but she died a few hours earlier. The police don't know if she was alone then."

Liana's gaze turned blank. "When did it happen?"

"January. You had just gone from the shelter to Liberty House."

She squinted up at both of them, confused. "Wasn't someone supposed to tell me?"

Ziva tensed with indignation. "Yes. Whoever was supposed to inform you of your mother's passing did not do his or her job."

Silence. She worried her lip with her teeth. "Lyuda was my mother," she warbled. "She _died_ and nobody told me."

"I'm sorry," Ziva apologized, head pounding. Her eyes watered. "I am so, so sorry, Lia-_levi'yah_."

Liana looked and looked at that picture. She chewed her lip, her sleeve, picked at her nails. Ziva finally pried her hands loose and held them, kissed her tiny, white knuckles. "Liana?" she asked softly.

She turned to face Ziva. Shy, hesitant.

"I love you," she said quietly. Liana studied her face as she had the photo of Lummus Park. _I'm right here,_ Ziva wanted to say, and shake her daughter's stiff little shoulders. _I'm here and I am all yours._ "I love you," she repeated instead.

Liana blinked her feline eyes and nodded. "I love you, too," she whispered.

The old fortress came down. Liana drooped. Her shoulders caved, her hands loosened and fell to her sides. She toppled forward with a soft moan and her hot, dark head came to rest between Ziva's neck and shoulder. Her face was gritty.

"You're safe," she cooed in Liana's ear. "Let go, baby."

Liana didn't weep; she simply sighed and tucked her arms between her body and Ziva's.

"You're safe," Ziva said again. She fought her own tears, but not well. "You are safe, my brave lioness."

She looked at Tony, who was red-eyed and staring at the strip of skin exposed by Liana's twisted pajama shirt. There were scars there, too; a cluster of burns and a strip of puffy, pink flesh as wide as Ziva's first two fingers. He rubbed his hands together, elbows on his knees, and looked back at her in silence.

Quiet lapsed. Shadows on the floor grew longer. Liana's breathing deepened. Ziva held her a while and silently thanked whatever omnipotent being that had left her enough sensation to feel her daughter's warm weight in her lap.

But Liana was _seven_ and Ziva's arms grew tired. Tony slid forward in his dining chair and held his hands out. "Want me to put her in bed?"

She nodded. "With us."

His shoulders crept up. "Zi, I don't think—"

_Shut up_, she wanted to snap. She swallowed her anger. "You will find her in the closet again."

He raised his hands. Deference. Good. "Ok. I'll put her in with us. Don't be offended if you find me on the sleeper sofa tomorrow morning, though, sweet cheeks. The bed's a king but three's a crowd."

"Thank you," she responded simply, and he lifted Liana from her lap.

Ziva shivered. She wanted to follow, but she needed to eat and drink. Her right leg shook and she punched it, frustrated.

"Hey," Gibbs said quietly. She spun. He was leaning against the counter, arms and legs crossed. He'd been there the whole time, watching, likely brooding. "Don't do that."

"I do not need to cath again," she said tartly, but his gaze did not sharpen and she blinked, feeling a little sheepish. "Can you get me a bowl of soup, please?"

He ladled still-steaming broth and vegetables into what Tony called the Bad-Day Bowl and strapped a spoon across her palm. He waited while she ate half her portion with small sips, careful not to spill.

"Ya ok?" he asked once she finished.

She kept her expression neutral. "Liana has a history of abuse and neglect. We knew parenting her would be difficult."

He nodded. "She's a good kid."

She rubbed her aching eyes. He passed her night meds. "Thank you for pureeing her soup," she said. "I appreciate that you remember that she has trouble with textures."

He nodded again. "Want me to stay?"

"No. Tony is here."

He smirked. "All we need is another man down."

She gave him a look. "And then you, too."

He scooped the dishes away, loaded the dishwasher, and wiped his hands. "I don't get sick. Tell DiNozzo to put your splints on before bed. Your hands are a wreck."

She nodded. "Goodnight, Abba."

He kissed her ear. "You're a great mom," he muttered. "Goodnight."

A slow grin spread across her face. Gibbs left without seeing it, but Tony returned with a huff and gave her an odd look. "She's out. What's got you all smug?"

"Nothing."

He flopped on the couch and scrubbed his face with his hand. "Why did you let Liana quit camp without talking to me first?"

"I don't need your permission to make parenting decisions," she said crisply.

"We finish what we start, Zi."

She rolled her eyes. "I know that and so does Liana, but she didn't like it. Why would I force her to go?"

"She said that?" he groused skeptically. "She _said_ she didn't like summer camp?"

"Yes, she said just that. '_I don't like camp._' What kind of mother would I be if I did not listen to her?"

Tony scoffed. "The kind of mother who makes her kid finish what she starts."

"Do you not understand _anything_?!" she burst. She would have throttled him if she could've gotten her hands around his throat. "Tell me, _Tony._ When was the last time you heard our daughter express her opinion?"

He pulled back and made a face. "About what?"

"Anything! When was the last time?"

He hemmed. "She's not that kind of kid, Zee-vah."

She narrowed her eyes, tipped her chin. "She is not? How would _you_ know?"

Tony's eyes widened. He stood, nearly knocking her aside, and began to pace. "Are you _kidding _me, Ziva? Who discovered her food issues? Who pushed for the swallow study? Who made sure she got into the drawing class taught by that red-head who works at the art store? Was that _you?_ Or were you too busy taking your afternoon nap?"

She gasped. "How _dare _you! And you did not answer my question—_when _did you last hear Liana express an opinion about _anything_?"

"I barely got her into the fine arts session, Zi. I called fifteen people, paid a ton of late fees, bought her new supplies because we talked about how good it was for her to go. She loves art and she's _good_ at it! Why would you let her just quit?"

She wasn't ready to surrender. "This is not about you, Tony. When was the last time you heard Liana ask for something?"

Tony frowned and sat. "What?"

"Anything." Ziva gestured, but she was tiring fast. "Food. Clothing. Entertainment. Transportation. A friend. _Anything_, Tony."

"For crying out loud, Zee-vah, I don't _know._ Whatever. It's not like you want my input. Just drop it."

She let him stew for a long moment, watching his eyes move back and forth. He was still thinking about it—thinking about Liana's quiet nature, her solitude, her persistent worry. "She asks for you," he said quietly. "Constantly."

"I'm her mother," she replied. "That does not count. She loves me."

"She wants to _be_ you."

Ziva flinched, horrified. "That is terrible. She should not want this."

He sat, tipped his head back, and kicked his feet up on the coffee table. "Your disability is part of your identity, Ziva. It is to her, anyway. She didn't know you before."

She studied his hands, then hers, pulse banging in her throat and temples. "And maybe I am grateful for that."

"She loves you no matter what. You didn't tell me why you let her quit, even after your little tantrum."

She glared. "You deserved it. And Liana was _miserable_ at camp, Tony. You know how reserved she is—how much courage did she have to find just to tell me she did not like it?"

"A lot," he said to the ceiling.

"You learned how attachment works—how is she supposed to trust us if we do not listen to her?"

He looked at her again with wet, red eyes. "I get it. But we are going to teach her to stick to something?" He squinted. "Eventually?"

"Yes."

He looked out the new kitchen doors. "And she's not going to get _everything_ she asks for, right? I mean, it won't be _Ema, I like ponies _and then I come home to Black Beauty grazing in the back forty."

Ziva studied her nails. They were cutting into her palms. "We are not zoned for horses."

"Oh. I'll be putting that in my pocket for later."

She smoothed her yoga pants over her swollen knees and looked up at him. "You owe me an apology. That comment you made about my needing to rest...it is not a choice. That was low, Tony."

He stroked forearms, traced her wrists with his fingertips. "You're right. I'm sorry." He did it again, softly, and cupped her hands in his much larger ones. "I'm really sorry."

She leaned toward him, no longer angry. "No groveling necessary. That feels lovely."

His eyes lit up. "Want to go for a quick swim before bed?"

_Swim_, indeed. She shook her tired, aching head. "Not tonight. I am still not feeling well."

His face fell. "Gotcha. There's a kid in our bed."

"_Our_ kid," she corrected. "Our sick, anxious, grieving kid. She needs to be with us."

Tony kissed her. "Our _beautiful_ kid who looks like her _beautiful_ mother needs to be with us. I took her file to Abby today. She dug around and found Li's original documents."

She fetched Liana's file from the dining table and returned to the living room. "Here," she said, holding it out. "And help me sit next to you." He eased her down beside him. Tony was warm and dense and steady; she leaned close and sighed. "I hope she is better tomorrow."

He kissed her head and opened the folder. "Me, too. Here is her original birth certificate. Lyuda's last name was Poperny."

"Belarusian," she mused. "No wonder her Russian sounds odd to me. I just thought it was my aphasia. Who was her father?"

"Raúl Mosqueda. Here's his driver's license."

Mosqueda was average-looking. Black hair, dark skin, dark eyes. Five-foot-seven, one-eighty. Was that where Liana got her strength? "What about Lyuda?" she asked. "Did Abby find photos of her?"

Tony produced a single, two-by-three image of a young woman with striking blue eyes and straight, jet-black hair. Her gaze was flat, face empty, fingers a _V _around a cigarette. Smoke curled in the glow of a single table lamp. Ziva recoiled. "That girl is miserable."

"That girl started using heroin at fourteen."

She wasn't aghast, just sad. "How did she give birth to such a beautiful, healthy baby?"

He shrugged. "She loved Liana long enough to get clean and stay that way for a while. Look." He held out her first photo. Liana had thin features and a few wisps of black hair.

Ziva shook her head. "Too skinny."

"They were homeless, Zi. What do you think she was able to eat?"

She shook her head again, sad and angry. "She fed her addiction, not her baby."

"She gave birth to our daughter," he maintained. "A little—"

An odd, familiar rage reared it's ugly head. "She hurt Liana all the time," she argued, voice rising. "She hit her, bullied her, burned her with cigarettes. It is no wonder Liana has trouble with food, Tony—she was never fed!" He looked at the baby picture again and swallowed hard, but she wasn't done. "Liana was never educated—not even in a Head Start or free ECE program. She could not write her name when she was taken into care."

"But she passed up all the other kids in less than a year. We can thank Lyuda for that—she was smart, too."

"Not smart enough to choose her child over heroin."

"She was _sick_," he maintained.

Ziva stiffened, head throbbing, and licked the stitches in her lip. "Sick parents care for their children, Tony. Poor parents. _Disabled_ parents."

"I get it," he said quietly, and sighed. "Think Li's bio-dad is Cuban?"

She looked at the license photo again. "Possibly. Miami has large Cuban and Cuban-American populations, but he could also be Mexican or Colombian or Panamanian. Is Abby looking into it?"

"She is, but she suggested swabbing Liana's cheek. We can get a DNA sample and build ethnic profile for her, see what percent of _what_ she really is."

Ziva blanched. "That smacks of Eugenics. I do not like it."

"But wouldn't she want to know?"

She side-eyed him. "I suppose."

He hugged her tightly and his voice rumbled when he spoke again. "Then let her have that. And I'm going to show her these when she's up for it."

She yawned. "I am up for bed."

He kissed her mouth. "Thought so. I could use some tube-time. Looks like I'm finishing season one of _The X-Files_ alone."

She let her head fall again on his shoulder. "I will leave the bathroom light on for you."

He kissed her again and together they got her back into her wheelchair. "I will be glad when these contractures wear off," she grumbled. "I have forgotten how to be dependent on you and Abba for transfers."

He clicked off the lights. "I don't mind."

"I do."

Liana slept in the center of their wide bed, knees tight to her chest, arms around Ziva's pillow. Her face was peaceful. Tony helped Ziva shift onto the bed and she reached for her child, propelled by instinct.

Liana sighed and rolled toward her. "_'ma_?"

"Here," she whispered. "Sleep, Lia-girl."

"_Don' leggo, Ema_."

"Never."She kissed her daughter's fever-heated cheek, threaded an arm around her middle. She smelled sick-sweet. "Never, my lioness," she promised. "Never."


	4. Chapter 4

**People! I have posted now four chapters of a five-piece story and forgotten my thank-yous. I am rude.**

**Thanks muchly to girleffect and Amilyn for all their help. Both are most awesome.**

**I love love. I love yous. Thanks for making this so great.**

**. . . .**

Tony thought "The Erlenmeyer Flask" was one of television's top-ten most disappointing season finales ever, second maybe to _Dr. Who _reboot season three. Or _Quantum Leap_, season six. That Kennedy episode was rubbish. So was this government conspiracy stuff; he much preferred a Monster-of-the-Week. So did Liana. She was unafraid of the creepier season one _X-Files_. "Squeeze," with the hibernating, liver-eating Eugene Tooms, lycanthropic "Shapes." She'd laughed. _That doesn't even look real, Daddy_. He had just smiled back and told her about budgeting and Canadian actors and fledgling pilot seasons.

"Miracle Man" upset her. She'd seen tent revivals, heard the claims of snake oil salesmen, street corner preachers, slow-eyed dealers. They'd promised her treats that never came, "cures" that never cured. _Your mom's real sick. This'll make her better. _And Lyuda had carried on with her old tricks—quite literally. Until it had all been too much. Until the day she'd walked off into the swamp and left her daughter tied to the door of that fire station. Had she known she'd be dead within a month? Had she come to whatever sense she possessed and tried to at least make the kid _safe_? Had she simply given up?

Tony clicked off the television and sat in the dark for a while, listening to the sound of his own breathing. His chest rose and fell, rose and fell. The sofa beneath him grew softer and softer, but he snapped his head up and rose on creaking knees, bound for the bedroom. Lyuda had taken all of her secrets to some potter's field in Dade County and left Liana with the mess.

She and Ziva were sound asleep, curled together like cats in a basket. Liana had her hand up the back of Ziva's shirt, pressed over the invisible line that divided what she could feel and what she couldn't. Peas in a pod, those two. Bethesda's latest power couple. _Zi-Li_. Joined at the hip.

Liana sighed in her sleep and inched closer to Ziva. Tony's half of the bed grew to three-quarters. He slid beneath the blankets without bothering to undress; he guessed by Ziva's raspy breathing that he'd be up with her to do a nebulizer treatment before sunup.

But he wasn't. Tony slept deeply, dreamlessly, and woke with his alarm at six. He showered, dressed, and dabbed a little pomade in his hair before pausing briefly to sniff the air. Why did it smell like that fancy bakery in Columbia Heights? He listened hard. Ziva's breathing, the coffee pot bubbling, and the soft _ting_ of a utensil on granite. Gibbs? He listened again; only _Ziva's _breathing. Liana was gone and he hadn't even noticed. Again.

She wasn't in the closet. She wasn't in her room, either, though her pajamas were in the hamper and her favorite sandals were gone. So was her little backpack. He barreled down the hallway, hoping she was too sick to get far.

The light in the stove hood was on. The oven fan clicked and turned off. A platter of fruit had been laid out, coffee, orange juice in a crystal pitcher that had been a wedding gift. Sticky cinnamon rolls cooled on a rack. This was _not_ Gibbs' work, Tony deciphered dumbly. "Liana?"

She poked her head around from the entry hall. "I'm right here, Daddy."

"Did you do this?"

She turtled back into her shell. "Um, yes?"

The melon had been sliced into even half-moons. The grapes washed and arranged, the strawberries de-topped and cut in half. "Still life?" he asked.

Liana unfolded her birdy legs and slid off the bench. "It's breakfast."

"Oh."

She wove her fingers together. "I feel bad for how I acted yesterday."

Time slowed. Tony counted out thirty seconds, then forty, then fifty before speaking. "I know you work hard to be...ok," he said slowly. "But you don't have to."

There were bruise-like circles beneath her eyes. "I don't want to ruin things."

"You won't."

More silence. She was measuring her words, chewing her bottom lip. "My friend Simon said that it's really easy to ruin things. He knew a kid who got sent back because he wouldn't do his chores." One thin shoulder rose beneath her t-shirt. "I didn't act very nicely last night, and I thought that if I did some work you might let me stay."

Tony tabled his rage. He'd heard plenty about this Simon, and the punk wasn't a _friend_; he was a bully and a manipulator. Sweet, earnest Liana didn't know the difference. "You don't owe us," he said quickly. "It's our _job_ to take care of you-a job we wanted more than anything. It's our job to help you feel better when you're sick, or sad, or lonely. You remember that day we finalized, Lee-lee—the judge signed those papers and it was _forever_ and I don't know that I have ever been happier."

She nodded vacantly and scratched a spot on her elbow. "I remember." She swallowed and prodded her throat, brows drawn. "I was always in the way," she said softly. "Lyuda would tell me I was a pest, like a tick." She blinked. "Ticks suck blood. You can get a disease from ticks called Lyme-"

He crouched and picked up her hand. Her cuticles were a ragged mess. "You're not a pest."

"But last night," she continued. "Last night I was..."

He tilted her chin toward him. "Last night you got some very sad news about your mother. Your _mother_ who gave birth to you and whom you loved very, very much. You have every right to be sad or angry. Can I show you something?"

Liana nodded again. He went to the wall and carefully removed the photo of him with his mom. _The _photo. His favorite. The two of them dressed so smartly and standing under that marquee. He still handled the thing with such reverence. "See?" he said, holding it out. "That's me with my mom." Liana ran one finger along the edge of the Gibbs-made frame. "She was kooky and creative and loved film. And she died when I was eight."

Her eyes flitted up to his face and back down. "I'm sorry."

"Do you know what, kiddo? It still hurts. I still miss her. I still feel lonely for her, even though I'm old and grey now." She graced him with a tiny smile. He warmed at the sight. "My family didn't handle her loss so well. My dad sent me to boarding school. And then sleep-away camp. And then another boarding school. Trust me when I tell you that I know what it's like to be plunked down on a stranger's doorstep with a ditty bag and a whole lot of hurt feelings."

She looked horrified. "Why didn't your dad want to take care of you?"

He shrugged. "He was hurt, too. People in pain don't always do the right thing."

She crossed her arms. "You were only a kid."

"Your grandpa and I have moved on."

She coughed a barking cough into her crooked elbow. "Is that why he's not allowed to come here?"

The kid knew too damned much sometimes. "This is our home, sweetheart. This is our safe place. Grandpa isn't a bad guy, but he hasn't earned the right to be here. So when we see him, we see him in public. That's why we usually go out for dinner."

Liana nodded, thinking. "Can I see the picture again?"

He held it out. She took it and furrowed her brow again. "What was her name?"

"Mom," he joked, but she only nodded seriously.

"How did she die?"

"Cancer."

She frowned. "Was she alone?"

He had to steady himself. "No. We were watching "An Affair to Remember" on her little hospital TV. I looked over at her to say, _I'll just take my ego for a walk_ and she was gone."

She tilted the photo and cocked her head. "What did you do?"

"I walked to the hallway and said to the first nurse I could find, _I think my mom just died_. She called the doctor on the telephone, and then I don't remember anything until my uncle drove me home that night. I laid in bed for a long time and tried to figure out what was going to happen to me."

Liana handed the photo back. "Did you cry?"

He couldn't look at the boy he'd been. "Not for a long time. Then all I _did_ was cry. And act out. I got into a lot of trouble and kicked out of a lot of schools."

Her face pinched angrily. "Well they shouldn't have done that. You weren't a bad kid."

He touched her hair. She didn't back away. "It can be hard to see through someone's behavior to what's happening underneath."

She gave him a long look. "Yeah. I'll go back to camp if you want me to."

He groaned. "You heard us."

"I didn't know it cost so much money."

He sat on the sofa. "It's not about the money. I thought you were making friends."

"I'll try again," she resigned.

He gave her a look. "You told Ema you didn't like it."

She tensed and said nothing.

"You don't say that sort of thing too much, do you?"

Liana swallowed and cast her gaze around the room. "It's better to stay quiet."

Tony would pocket that one for later. "Did something happen at camp?"

She shifted. "No."

"Liana."

She rubbed her red-rimmed eyes. "I tried," she said quietly.

He touched her hair again. "You always do."

"No one would let me sit at their table. There were empty seats, but they always said someone was coming."

He understood. "Sucks to be the new kid, huh? Where was your friend Anna?"

"Sitting with her friends from last year. There were no spots left at her table."

"So what did you do?"

"There were tables in the back of the room. I sat there."

"By yourself."

"Yeah."

He drew her nearer. "You did that every day for two weeks?"

She nodded and rested her head on his arm.

"You never said anything."

"I thought you might say I wasn't trying hard enough."

He put his chin on her head. "You need to speak up so we know when something's wrong."

Liana chewed her lip. The coffee pot beeped and turned off. "Lyuda wanted to me be quiet and stay out of her way."

_Bingo_. "That wasn't fair."

She leaned harder on him, tired, feverish. "It's not always hot in Florida."

He played dumb. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Sometimes it's cold. Not _cold-_cold, like here, but it gets chilly in the winter, especially at night."

"Bet that made it hard to sleep, especially if you were at the beach or the park." _Talk, kid. Talk_. _I'm here._

"There's a mall across the causeway and we went there one night to get warm. It was Christmastime. There were lights everywhere. And we walked around for a little, but Lyuda said she was tired and wanted to sit. We watched everyone. There were a lot of people there and they were buying _everything_. Some people had like, ten bags of stuff."

"People go a little crazy for the holidays." _Guilty as charged_.

"There was a toy store near where we sat, and I watched all the kids playing with all the toys. _All_ of them. And some parents, too. And...and the people who worked there hung all these toys up by the door—stuffed toys. And there was this one little orange cat that...I liked it. But I knew I couldn't have it because we didn't even have money for food or a place to live."

Tony knew where this was going. "You told her that, huh?"

"Yeah, after the mall closed. We were walking back to the beach and Lyuda started talking to me. She never did that, but she told me all about what life was like when she was a kid, how no one was allowed to know her family was Jewish or they'd get sent to prison, but here everyone was so lucky because there were menorahs all over the place. That's why she liked living by the beach so much—there were lots of Jewish people there."

He hugged her. "You're safe here, sweetheart."

She hadn't heard him. "I thought it was ok to tell her that I liked that toy, but it wasn't. She got mad. She got _really _mad. She hit me and pushed me and called me greedy. We were on the causeway again and she shoved me against the railing and it hurt my back. I thought she was going to throw me in the water. Or into the tents where the bad guys live."

"That was harsh. You didn't deserve that."

Liana turned and wrapped both arms around his neck. He sighed. So did she. "I'll go back to camp if you really want me to."

He turned it back on her. "Do _you_ want to?"

"Daddy—"

"Liana, answer me please."

She put her face against his neck. "No. I want to stay home."

"Then that's what you'll do." He patted her on the back. "I need to go to work soon, Lee-lee."

"I know. Take some breakfast with you. Maybe Tim will want to share."

He eyed the cinnamon rolls on the island. "Did you make those?"

"There is a recipe in Ema's book. It had a star next to it."

He rubbed his neck. "No more with the oven, kiddo. It's not safe without supervision."

"Ok," she agreed easily.

Tony lifted her into his arms. She was light and thin-limbed and burning hot. Her small hands clutched his collar. He gave her a dose of Tylenol and carted her right back into their bedroom, where she climbed in next to Ziva and closed her eyes.

"I love you," she sighed.

He kissed her hair. "I love you, too, Lee-lee."

She smiled and dozed. He watched for a long time, ignoring texts from McGee and Abby. Watched his wife and daughter breathe. Listened to the rain patter on the bathroom skylight. His own pulse hummed along nicely.

Gibbs thumped through the front door and startled him. "You're late, DiNozzo."

He straightened up, grabbed his bag. Next to it was a package of cinnamon rolls, ready to go. "Thanks, Boss."

Gibbs gave him a wry half-smile. "Wasn't me."

. . . .

Ziva greeted him at the front door. She tumbled into his arms the minute he put down his go-bag and put a tender kiss on his mouth. "I missed you," she said.

He cupped the back of her neck and kissed back. "Missed you too," he said when they broke apart. "Rough day?"

She looked tired, but there were no dark circles under her eyes, no pallor to her skin, and she was dressed in a cotton skirt and t-shirt. Her skin was cool and soft. "Yes," she sighed.

His heart sank. Were they in for another long night? "Ya ok?"

"I am fine," she said firmly, and he knew she meant it. "But Liana is asleep. I believe she is down for the night." She peered into the bag he'd brought home. "Did you have to buy so many, Tony?"

He pranced a little, put on the spot. "I...wanted her to have them. And this way she has backup."

Ziva smiled a real smile and he melted. "I understand. I would have done the same thing." She pulled on his hand. "Want to go swimming?"

He had his shirt and shoes off in a heartbeat. She locked the door behind them and shimmied out of her top. Tony shed his pants he waited for her, but she waved him in and got down to the pool's edge by herself. He smiled. "Doing better today, huh?"

She shrugged and eased into the water. Her hands found his shoulders. "I slept until almost ten this morning."

"You needed it."

"I like mornings with you."

He rested his mouth on her neck. "Me, too. Is Li in our bed?"

"No, hers. I think she needed her own space." He pushed off the bottom and tugged her along with him. Ziva sighed. Her breath raised goosebumps on his chest. "I missed you," she said again.

"Me, too."

He whirled and pinned her gently against the side of the pool. Water eddied around them. She gave him a nip on the collarbone and traced his nape with her fingers. "You know that patience is not my strength."

Tony growled a little and grinned. She laughed. It was all so familiar-the water, the rhythm, the way she hummed against his shoulder. He peaked quickly and brought her down slow, liking how she groaned and panted. He put his forehead against hers, but only for a moment; she pushed away and swam a lap, dark head sleek like a seal's as it broke the surface.

He put one hand out when she rejoined him against the wall. She took it. "That was nice," she murmured.

"Yeah."

She lifted one hand and watched water drip from her fingertips. "It was a difficult day."

He stayed where he was. "Tell me about it."

Ziva gave him a long, steady look. "I want Liana to be...permitted. I want her to feel as though she is allowed to grieve." She swirled her hands to stay afloat. "You and I-we were not allowed, Tony. No one gave us the time or space and it had lasting implications for both of us."

He nodded. "I know."

"I hope Liana is able to forgive her mother someday. Maybe not for the abuse, but for the choices she made because of her illness."

"Did you?" he asked.

She blinked. "Forgive Liana's mother? No. I never will, Tony. You know it is not my nature."

"Yours, I meant."

She blinked again. "I suppose. I did not have much time. She died, and I took over at home for a few years before my father enlisted me in the IDF."

Tony watched and waited. She'd taught him patience and it always paid off.

"I dreamed about her often when I was in the hospital," she said softly. Her _r_s lilted a little; nostalgia always brought out her accent. "I remembered the way she used to talk on the telephone. How she would stand by the window in the living room, how she held the receiver. She smoked." She smiled, wistful. "It was Tel Aviv in the 80s- _everyone_ smoked."

He scoffed a little, joking. "Israelis don't believe in lung cancer?"

Ziva's eyes hardened. "Many Israelis do not live long enough to _get_ cancer."

"Oh."

She retreated back into her memories. "She was gentle. She was demanding, too, but she was gentle and kind. She never raised her voice to us-only to my father. And _only_ when he deserved it."

Tony couldn't hold back. "Sounds like someone else I know."

She grinned and it was beautiful. "Jewish women are tough, Tony."

"Don't I know it."

She wound her arms around his neck. He took most of her weight. "I wanted her when I was sick."

"All sick kids want their moms."

"I do not think I understood how lonely I was. Everything was so vague. It was like I spent six months underwater."

He breathed on her ear and she shivered, delighted. "Not anymore," he murmured.

"No. I am so glad. I did not like how far away everything felt."

He kissed her. "Me either. You ready to get out?"

She kissed back. "Yes. I need to check on Liana."

He hauled her out. They toweled off and re-dressed, flirting, and he warmed some leftover chicken while she went silently into Liana's dark bedroom. He chewed and imagined her sliding the quilt away from their daughter's sleeping face, kissing her brow to check for fever, smoothing her hair away from her eyes. He had to exhale hard to keep his chest from tightening. A family life was a good life.

She returned as he was putting his plate in the dishwasher. "She is sound asleep."

"Did you put your hand on her back to make sure she was breathing?"

"Yes," she confessed. "She is the quietest sleeper."

He nodded. "I've done that, too." She giggled. He went warm. "We had a long talk this morning. She seemed ok when I sent her back to bed. I gave her Tylenol, too."

Ziva sipped mango juice and nodded. "The fever broke around noon. We talked for a little while after she took a shower. She wanted to know about my family." She fell silent, thinking. "I could not tell her anything. She _knows_ things are strange and awkward between my father and me, but I just could not…"

"That's your right, Zi," he agreed.

She looked at him with those big brown eyes again. "She wants to meet him."

Tony wasn't sure how to respond.

"She has asked twice now. And _he_ wants to meet _her,_ at least via Skype, but I cannot permit it. He is so manipulative and she is still so fragile."

He tensed; he'd kill the bastard if he ever laid a hand on Liana. Hell, if he even _thought _about it. "I don't trust your father any farther than I could throw him."

"I know," she acknowledged. "And that is difficult, because I think he loves me, and he loves Liana, but he has done some terrible things that I am not ready to forgive." He spooned ice cream out of the carton and into his mouth. She made a face. "Get a bowl, you cretin."

He grinned and did it again. "How would your mother handle this situation?"

Ziva frowned and cocked her head. "I do not know. She was unable to protect us, but she was watchful when we were all together. Vigilant. Perhaps hypervigilant. And he was not allowed to care for us until we were older. Tali was three before she let him put her to bed."

Tony finished the carton of ice cream and tossed it in the trash. "Let's think of it like this-Liana has been here for just a year now. To us she's only one. Maybe when she's three-to-us she can spend time with him."

She nodded and licked the stitches in her lip. "That sounds reasonable. Do you think I should let them Skype supervised?"

"If he can love her without ulterior motives, then yes. She's hungry for family. I don't think it's right to withhold anyone."

"You do not like him, Tony."

"Nope, I don't. I hate the way he looks at you. He pities you. He's condescending."

She rolled her eyes. "He has been like that always."

"Yeah, and that makes him kind of a bastard, but he made you so I need to check myself."

"Thank you," she said quietly.

"Did you show Li the pictures of her father?"

She dipped her head. "She did not believe it was real, Tony. She thinks her father is a jack."

"John. Damn. Where's the file?"

"She put it in a box in her room. She will not let me touch it. I asked if she wanted to frame the photo of her mother and she got very angry. And then she apologized so many times I had to ask her to stop. I want to put her back on anti-anxiety medication, Tony."

He swiped a hand over his face. Poor kid. "I agree. She's going to run herself into the ground if we just let her go. Any progress on the playdate?"

"I did not ask."

"Probably better."

"Yes," she said firmly. "Did you finish season one of _The X-Files_ last night?"

He rolled his eyes. "Worst finale ever. All that hype for the movie. Such crap."

Ziva came near and wove her arm around his waist. She worked one hand beneath his shirttails and tickled the divot just above his waistband. "Can we start season two?"

"I'm afraid of the dark," he deadpanned.

"Liana said you can borrow her nightlight," she replied seriously.

He smirked and shrugged and held out his hand. "C'mon. Let's get cozy on the couch."

She took it and arched one eyebrow. "Cozy?"

"You, me, 'Little Green Men.' Sexy."

She guffawed. He lead her to the media room and flicked on the television. She transferred onto the sofa, arms trembling, and let her head fall against his chest. "Do you think Liana will wake up?"

"I'll turn the surround sound off."

"From a nightmare, I mean."

He found a secret stash of pretzels. "Hope not, but we'll stick her in with us if she does."

"I read an article today that said co-sleeping can help with bonding."

"Put the _Crunchy Parenting _magazine away, Zi. Liana has her own room that she happens to really like."

She harrumphed. "I am just saying that I _like_ when she sleeps with us. She is sweet in a way that we do not often see."

He loved it, too, but wasn't about to admit it. "'Cause you can't feel it when she kicks."

She hit him. He _umphed_. They both laughed.

"Seriously," he complained once they'd both sobered. "She's strong. I have bruises."

Ziva clucked. "She is small for her age. _Surely_ you are not so sensitive."

"Sensitivity is manly," he carped.

She took his hand. "You are a very good father, Tony. I am proud of you."

He blushed. Blushing was manly, too. "Thanks."

She leaned forward and took his face in her soft hands. "I mean it-you had no model. You had no one to go to for advice. And yet, Tony, you are so good with her. You make me proud every day."

He melted into the sofa cushions, grinning. "Thanks," he said again, awed, and panned forward from "Little Green Men" to "The Host."

Ziva elbowed him. "Why did you do that?"

He kissed her ear. "Tonight is not a night for a crisis of faith."

. . . .

It was past ten-hundred before Liana wobbled out of her bedroom. She was pale and sleepy-faced, but didn't look sick anymore. Tony poked his head into the hallway where she stood clutching the framed photo of his mother and him. "Hey," he said cautiously. "How ya doing, sweetheart?"

She nodded vacantly and held up the picture. "I didn't mean to take this."

"It's fine. Want me to hang it up?"

She looked at it, then at him, and said nothing.

"Want to keep it?"

She stared.

_C'mon kid_, he urged. _Gimme something_.

Liana screwed up her face. "Um, is there another copy?"

"We can print one this afternoon and find a frame for it. Want something to eat? Been awhile."

He picked her up. She perched on his hip like a little bird. "Where's Ema?"

"Shower."

"Is Saba helping?"

He carried her into the kitchen and popped a bagel in the toaster. "Nope, she's got it, kiddo."

"What if she falls?"

Tony studied her worried little face. "What if she does? What would we do?"

Her golden gaze wandered. "Um, help?"

"How?"

"Help her up. Make sure she's ok. What if she isn't?"

"What do we do then?"

She looked at him steadily. "Call an ambulance or Saba to take her to Dr. Monroe."

He smiled and touched their noses together. "You got it, kiddo. What do you want on your bagel?"

She toyed with the shoulder seam of his t-shirt. "Um, creamed cheese."

He put her down. "That's what your mom likes."

She blushed. _Busted_. "Yeah. I am done talking about Lyuda," she said.

"Doesn't work like that," he replied evenly. "We don't just decide when we're better from all our hurts. It takes time and patience, and sometimes intervention like therapy or medication."

She watched him put a schmear on her bagel. "Ema wants me to do both."

"How do you feel about that?"

She took a bite and chewed slowly. "I'll take medicine."

"What about the shrink?"

Liana took another slow bite. He thumbed a bit of cream cheese from her lip. "I don't think I want to go to therapy again. I don't want to talk about that stuff anymore."

Tony pushed the toaster against the backsplash. "What if you _need_ to?"

She blinked those feline eyes. "Then I will."

He knelt so they were eye-to-eye. "That doesn't mean you can't talk to us."

She nodded. "I just want Lyuda to be gone."

"She still hurts you."

Liana closed her eyes and nodded. "It's hard to try new things. I...hear her sometimes. She called me names."

He drew her near. "I'm sorry."

She leaned into him. "It's ok, Daddy. It's not your fault."

"No, but I hurt when you hurt. And I got you something. A few somethings, actually."

She reddened from her hairline to her collarbones. "You don't have to buy me a present every time I have a bad day."

"There are worse things than letting me spoil you a little, sweetheart. Here."

She handled the paper shopping sack the way Ziva handled his gym bag. "What is it?"

"Not a pony."

She giggled. _Actually _giggled. Tony would've taken off like Superman if he could've. "Cats!" She pulled one from the bag, frowned, and looked again. "So many of them. How did you know this was the one?"

He fumbled. "Ya know...internet."

"Did Tim help you?"

Now he was was busted. "Yeah."

They were more like little beanbags than actual stuffies, and small enough that she could hang all five over her forearm. "I love them. Thanks, Daddy." She gave him a one-armed hug and kissed his unshaven cheek.

Ziva rolled out from the bedroom with a wet head. She wore a cotton skirt and t-shirt again. "Did you get presents, Lia-girl?"

"Daddy bought me cats like the one I liked."

She knew the story. "He knows you well, my lioness. How do you feel?"

Liana rearranged her cats. "Fine."

"I was not speaking strictly _physically_, Lia."

She wouldn't look at Ziva. "I am finished talking about those things."

Ziva's mouth fell open, but Tony held up a hand. "Liana agrees to medication, but not therapy for now."

She smiled and took Liana's free hand in hers. "My brave girl. I am very proud of you."

Liana climbed up on her lap. "I'm proud of you too, Ema."

Ziva laughed. Tony wanted to hug their whole house, but he had business yet. "I got something else for you, Lee-lee."

She and Ziva both looked up. Their resemblance was startling in certain light. He fumbled. "Abby gave me a kit with a swab. We can do a DNA test to see if that Raul guy really is your dad."

He got the box from his go-bag. It was the same size as an old-fashioned videocassette. "Want to give it a try?"

She didn't look nervous. "You're going to rub inside my cheek, right?"

"Yep. There's something else, too-Abby can do a test to see what your ethnic heritage is. Would you want to know that?"

Liana furrowed her brow. "I'm Russian."

"Belarusian," Ziva corrected. "Your mother was from Minsk."

She made a soft scoffing noise. "That must be a horrible place."

"It may have been, for her. But for you it is just a faraway city in a faraway land. Your home is here."

"Yeah. And we can do that test, Daddy. Is it expensive?"

"Free," he lied. Liana opened her mouth. Tony swabbed it and put the stick in the proper envelope. He scrawled his signature on the line and tucked it back in his bag. "Done. Abby will have the results in a month."

Ziva hugged her tightly. "It is hard to be patient."

She nodded. "Remember when you said I had to have a playdate?"

"I meant that, Liana."

"I know. Can we call now?"

"For later in the week?"

Tony almost jumped up and down. "Sure. Want me to come home early?"

She nodded shyly. "Can you play shark with us in the pool?"

"_You're gonna need a bigger boat._"

She laughed. Ziva smiled. "Shall I call now?"

"Is that ok?"

"Yes," she and Tony chorused.

He scooped Liana out of Ziva's lap and held her aloft. "C'mon, let's find a basket for your new kittens while the _ema_s work out a plan."

"Ok. I think there is a basket in my closet."

He toted her into the bedroom. She found said basket and tucked the cats inside, adding a spare pillowcase and some silk flowers just because. She put the whole thing on her night table and uttered a soft, _oh_.

"What, sweetheart?"

She held something out to him. "I still have this. It's Natasha's. I was supposed to draw it for art class homework."

It looked like a rock. "Oh. Well, you and Ema go to the art store a lot. I'm sure you can return it next time you go."

"I shouldn't have taken it."

He put his hand between her shoulderblades. "I am a hundred percent positive that you did not mean to."

"I didn't."

"See? I knew that. I'm the great Carnac."

"You're Daddy."

"You bet. What kind of rock is that?"

"It's a fetish."

"A _what_?"

She held it up. "A Zuni fetish. This one is a mountain lion."

Tony smiled. _Of course it was_. "My lioness has a lioness."

Liana pulled out her sketchbook. "I drew one, too."

He flipped pages. She'd drawn a lot of them, apparently, and they were all good. _Really_ good. "How did you learn to do this?"

"I don't know."

"You're amazing."

"I'm not."

He held up a drawing of the mountain lion fetish. The turquoise heart line seemed to point right at her. "Anyone who can do _this_ is amazing."

She flushed. "I made that for Ema when she was in the hospital."

"Why didn't you give it to her?"

"I didn't think she would like it. And then her hands were...not so good and I didn't want her to think I was teasing."

"Let's do it now. She'll be thrilled."

Liana looked uncertainly at his face and then the drawing. "Ok," she conceded. "But it's ok if she doesn't like it."

Ziva was there, silent and sneaky as ever. "Ok if _who_ does not like _what_?"

"My drawing," Liana said glumly. "I made it when you were in the hospital but you don't have to like it."

Tony handed it to her. She gasped. "It's lovely. Is this one of the fetishes you were talking about?"

Liana lit up. She liked to teach about things. "Zuni fetish. The Zuni are a Pueblo people. They live in New Mexico."

Ziva knew to take the bait. "Why do they make fetishes?"

"For rituals. They have a three-deity religious system. Now they're made mostly to sell, though."

"This blue arrow-"

_Turquoise_, Ema."

"This _turquoise_ arrow-what is that?"

"It's the animal's life force. It goes from the mouth to the heart."

"And my people say food is love."

Liana touched the twine and tiny arrowheads. "These are for the hunt."

"It is a lioness?"

She fidgeted. "Yeah."

"What does that mean, Lia-_levi'yah_?"

"The cougar is for healing, Ema."

The air changed. Tony's skin rippled. "Wow, Lee-lee. That's heavy."

She studied their faces. "Maybe it worked."

Ziva smiled up at him, eyes aglow. "Perhaps you are right, my Lia-girl." She opened her arms. Liana climbed into them, but turned and reached for Tony's hand. He squeezed it gently. Ziva kissed her hair. "Perhaps you are _right_."

**FIN.**


	5. Epilogue

**Wow, would you look at the time! Getting late...**

**Sorry about that. I was derailed again and again. But this is it and then it's back to "A Village Life" and "Holy Land." Thank you all so much. You make this universe a lovely place to live.**

**. . . .**

Liana DiNozzo danced around Benjamina and her daughter Anna, breathless. She was a pretty kid, with wide hazel eyes and long dark hair, but her pixie face was pinched with anxiety. Her fingers flew as she jabbed them first at herself, then around the room, then beyond.

"I'm Liana," she rushed. "This is the living room, and that's the kitchen, and I made you some Russian Tea Cakes and my mom brewed coffee and tea. Can I take your bag?" Anna handed her knapsack over. Liana hung it on a low hook. "It will be here when you need it," she said formally. "You can change into your suit before we go swimming. There is a guest bath in the pool room and another down the hall." She pointed again. A white tile room was open to her left. "See? Right there. Can I get you something to drink?"

Benjamina had to smile; Liana was a sweet little thing. "I'd love a cup of coffee, thanks."

"How do you take it?"

How old was this kid—forty? "Milk, no sugar. Thank you."

"Careful, Lia," someone said from behind them, and she and Anna both jumped. The woman, straight-backed and confident in her wheelchair, stuck out her hand. Her eyes were darker than her daughter's, but her small features and narrow shoulders were the same. "I am Ziva," she said evenly. "Liana's mother. Welcome to our home."

Her grip was warm and light, her palm callused. "Benjamina and Anna. Your daughter is quite hospitable. Thank you for having us."

She smiled. "Our pleasure. Come sit down. Liana prepared a snack for everyone and she's eager to share."

Liana brought a plate of cookies to the table and poured glasses of milk for her and Anna. "They're called Russian Tea Cakes," she said seriously. "But they're not really Russian. Real Russian cookies are called _pryaniki_ and they're spicy, like gingerbread. These are just sweet. The recipe called for walnuts, but I didn't put them in." She twisted her fingers together. "I wasn't sure if Anna had allergies. A lot of children have nut allergies. Soy and dairy are other common allergens, but I used those because—"

Ziva smoothed Liana's hair away from her face. "It's ok, Lia," she said quietly.

Liana looked at her shame-faced. "Sorry."

"It's ok," she said again. "Thank you for the cookies." She wrapped a thin arm around her daughter's shoulders. "You are fine," she said firmly. "Sit with us and have a snack before you change."

The dynamic changed. Liana sat and ate obediently, gaze wandering occasionally to Anna's face. "I didn't finish camp," she said after a brief silence.

Anna only shrugged. "Natasha put your kachina and your drawing of the lion fetish in the art show on the last day. She said she would mail them to you when the show was over. It's traveling to all the schools."

Her eyebrows went up. "Even ours?"

"Yeah."

"Oh."

Ziva rubbed her back. "Fantastic work, my Lia-girl. I am very proud of you."

Liana ducked her dark head. "I bet some of the older kids' work is better. They've had more time to—"

"All you have to say is _thank you_."

"Thank you," she said to her plate.

The cookies were good. Benjamina helped herself to another and Liana's eyes lit up. "Do you like them?"

"They're fantastic. May I have the recipe?"

She dashed to the pantry, where she climbed two shelves and pulled down an orange box. "Here," she said, handing her a card. "I can make another one. The recipe is online but I like to write them out by hand. It's how Ma Ingalls would have done it."

"We're reading _Little House_, too," Anna piped up. _Finally_. She'd never been so shy in all her life. "Which one are you on?"

"_Little House on the Prairie_. We just started this summer."

"Us, too. Chapter five."

"Four," Liana lamented. "We didn't read much when Ema was sick."

_Sick_? Was that why she was so nervous? "Anna and I have a few minutes set aside each day for reading," she said. "We have a big family, so that time is special for just the two of us."

Liana eyed her mother. "It's just my parents and me. And my grandfather. He stays here occasionally to help because—"

"Because sometimes we need him," Ziva finished for her. "Why don't you show Anna your room? Then you can change and we'll swim."

"Let me clean—"

"I will do it. Go with Anna and show her your room. Show her the drawings you did for me."

She nodded, chewing her lip, and slid out of her chair. "C'mon," she said to Anna. "My room is this way." She held out her hand.

Anna took it. "You _are_ really good at art," she said.

Benjamina heard Ziva suck in a breath, but Liana smiled a tiny smile. "Thanks. I really like to draw."

"Me, too," Anna agreed. "I brought my supplies. Maybe we can do that when we're done swimming."

They turned, still holding hands, and went down the hallway. Ziva exhaled once they were out of earshot. "Liana is very excited to have a friend over."

Benjamina nodded. "She has a grownup head on those little shoulders."

"Yes."

She weighed her next question and decided to go for it. "Is she...neuro-typical?" Ziva's gaze darkened. "I'm sorry," she backtracked. "But she is just so bright and so_...mature." And so anxious._

"I do not know," she admitted slowly. "But we accept Liana for who she is. There is a powder room to the right of the laundry. Would you like to head for the pool?"

The half-bath was pristine, tiled in the same white as the main bathroom. The mirror had no watermarks, the door no grubby fingerprints, and flip-flops in different sizes sat on a low shelf. _For guest use_ was printed on a small sign. Benjamina slid into a pair. They fit perfectly.

The pool, too, was beautiful and spotless. The windows were polished, the skylights free of fog. Two plastic storage bins stood at the other end. They were likely full of supplies. Or the elves that kept this place so spotless.

Ziva was already perched on the deck. She unrolled a purple yoga mat and spread it before her. A few inches of mat hung in the water like a glorified Slip n' Slide. She seemed so delicate with her thin limbs and soft grip, but she slid out of her chair swam an entire length of the pool underwater, popped up for a breath, and doubled back to where Benjamina sat with her legs dangling.

She blinked water from her lashes and smiled. "Tell me about yourself."

It wasn't a question. Benjamina gaped for a moment, put on the spot, but recovered quickly. "I'm...a mom," she said. Was that it? "I have five children—four older boys and then Anna. Our home is never as tidy as yours, nor as quiet."

Ziva slid a foam noodle behind her shoulders and leaned back. "Sounds like fun."

She laughed. "Anna might disagree. All she wants is her own space to draw and read."

She got a small, wry smile. "Well, she is always welcome here. It is only the three of us. Four when my father is around, but he is a quiet soul, also." Her feet fluttered at the surface. Benjamina's face must have registered her shock, because Ziva laughed. "My injury is incomplete. I have some sensation and some movement, but not much. Weightlessness makes everything easier."

She thought of her big, active boys. Their sports practices on muddy, rutted fields, their second-floor karate studio with no elevator, the bulk of their general being. How they filled every space with noise and crumbs. _Weightlessness_. Not with them around.

The girls appeared. Anna looked happy and sturdy in her new suit, and Liana's face no longer held that pinched, anxious look. She waved at her mother and went to one of the storage bins at the other end of the pool. Benjamina imagined they were as neat as the rest of the place.

"I have diving rings," she said. "And diving sticks. And a treasure chest game and floating bean bag toss and a basketball hoop."

Anna pawed through it. "All this stuff is still in the packages."

Benjamina bit her tongue. Liana did one of her twitchy little dances. "I don't have friends over, usually."

She held her breath. Anna didn't make a thing of it. "Well I'm here now," she said gently. "Which one do you want to play first?" Liana hemmed. A brief faceoff ensued; who would cave first? Anna, of course. She was never one to hold back an opinion. "Let's do this one," she said, holding up a beanbag.

Liana nodded. "That's good for two people. See how it says O-S-U? That's where my dad went."

Anna set the boards afloat. "Where is he? Work?"

"Yeah, but he said he might come home early to play with us. You go first."

They were a surprisingly good match. Liana didn't have four older brothers to compete with but she held her own, even sending a few shots off-course so Anna could win the first round.

"Nice job," she praised, and Benjamina laughed when she extended her hand for a shake.

"She's so sweet," she complimented softly.

Ziva smiled. "Thank you. Liana likes to do everything right."

The girls reset for a second round, but the door swished open and out walked a tall, smiling man. He _had_ to be Liana's father—she'd inherited his kind green eyes. "I'm Tony," he said. "The king of this castle."

"The king who does everything the queen says," Liana piped.

He play-scowled. "Hey, wildcat. No giving away the royal secrets."

"This is Benjamina, King Tony," Ziva said dryly. "She is Anna's mother."

They shook. His hands were large but gentle. "Nice to meet you."

"Likewise. How's the playdate?"

There was giggling. All three adults exchanged smiles. "It's going well," Ziva said confidently, but her eyes looked droopy. Was she ok? Did Benjamina need to say something?

No. Tony looped his arm where the noodle had been and gave a tug. "C'mon, Ema," he joked. "Timeout."

An older man came in and took over. He hauled Ziva from the pool, helped her towel off, got her back into her wheelchair. He was not a large man, but looked like he'd known a good days work. But there was something tender in the way he directed her into the house.

"Liana?" she called over her shoulder.

Liana looked up, worried, and Ziva said something in a language only the two of them understood. She blushed. "Ok, Ema," she agreed lightly, and climbed aboard the noodle Ziva had previously occupied. She watched her mother disappear with a concerned face, but looked knowingly at Benjamina. "She's fine," she said gravely. "Just tired. She has to work a lot harder than we do."

Is that why Liana had baked the cookies? "I can only imagine," she fumbled. Tony got back in the water. "Was that your father-in-law?" she asked him.

He looked confused for only a split-second, but laughed and nodded. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, that's him. He won't talk much about himself but he's a good guy. Heart of gold."

Well that apple hadn't fallen far. "Seems to be a family trait."

He laughed again and leaned back, paddling with his big hands. "Yeah, you could say that. Watch this."

He swam underwater and came up on Anna silently, surprising her and making her squeal. Liana looked shocked, but burst into peals of laughter when basket-tossed her over his shoulder. She landed with a splash and came up giggling so hard she snorted.

"Again!" she demanded. He did, and threw her farther this time. She had to paddle back. "Liana's turn!"

Benjamina winced; Liana didn't seem like the kind of kid who roughhoused.

Tony scooped her off the noodle, bridal-style, and dunked her backwards. She flipped out of his arms and doubled back to grab on, but he stroked away and put one hand on his head, wrist flexed, fingers up. "_Daaaaa-dun_," he sang, and Liana laughed.

"Shark!" she cried, and dragged Anna by the wrist to the opposite end of the pool.

He chased, singing the _Jaws_ theme. The girls squealed and giggled as little girls did. Around and around they went, churning up the water, singing and chattering and splashing.

A whirlpool formed and Benjamina laughed; the metaphor wasn't lost on her. She and Anna had been drawn in, propelled toward the DiNozzo family by the forces of nature. She looked at Liana, who was side-stroking along the wall, grinning, holding a raft between herself and her father. "You can't get me!" she cried.

He cackled playfully. Anna rode his shoulders. "Oh, yes I will!" he said, reaching for her across the whitecaps. "Oh yes I _will_."

. . . .

**Three Weeks Later**

Liana was waiting for him, perched on the sofa in her school clothes. She'd taken her shoes off, though. He did, too, and threw his go-bag on the bench. "Hey, sweetheart," he greeted.

She gave him a hug and kiss. He smelled her hair and smiled; he'd become a real thing to her, rather than a piece of space debris floating in Ziva's orbit. She was openly affectionate, seldom hesitating to snuggle in while they watched television or show off a new drawing. He didn't need to drag things out of her anymore, either.

"I got two pieces of mail today," she announced.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. Papa in Israel sent me a postcard. See?"

She held out a stock photo of Tel Aviv—the beaches, the high-rises, the promenade. On the back was Eli's scratchy handwriting. _Dear Liana, your mother tells me you are a brilliant and brave girl. I am already proud. Tel Aviv and I wait for you. Love, Papa in Israel._

"Wow," he mused. "How do you feel about that?"

She fanned the air with it. "Ema is worried."

_I'll bet_. "How ya think, kiddo?"

"I could tell by her face. I told her I was fine. She said someday I can Skype with him."

"I'm down with that."

She regarded him seriously. "She loves Saba better than him."

Tony poured himself a glass of water. There were steaks marinating in a covered dish. He was probably expected to grill them. "You'll have to talk to her about that. Where is she, Li?"

"TV room. Her new stander came and she's trying it out. I helped set it up. Saba's eating with us. He said he'll make the meat."

_Off the hook_. "So I talked to Abby today."

She looked up, interested. "I finished the book she got me."

The _Encyclopedia_ _of Native Tribes of North America _was over a thousand pages long. Tony's soda bubbled up his nose and he coughed. "Already?"

"It has a lot of pictures. I drew some of them."

_Of course she had_. "You'll have to show me later."

"I will. I got something else in the mail, too—a birthday party invitation."

"From Anna?" They'd had a playdate every week.

"No, from Leya Moskowitz. She went to camp with me, but I didn't know we were friends."

"Was she in your drawing class?" _With all the other punks who hurt your feelings_?

"No, she sat with me at lunch."

"What? When?"

She shrugged and opened the little card. "Every day."

_Right over your head, kiddo. _"Oh, Lee-lee," he groaned. "What am I going to do with you?"

He wanted her to laugh. She didn't. "I'm trying," she said quietly.

"And you're doing really well." How much of that was the new medication? "I got something for you."

"A pony," she deadpanned.

Tony laughed. "Yes. And fifty acres to graze it on. No, Abby gave me your lab results. Want to see?"

He held out an envelope. She took it gingerly and tore the seal, but reconsidered. "Let's take it to Ema. I want her to see, too."

She was still in her standing frame. The instruction manual lay on the tray before her and the television was tuned to evening news, volume low. She looked up happily when he kissed her cheek. He'd never forgotten what it felt like to stand next to her. "Hi, baby," he whispered just for her. "How are ya?"

She let her head fall to his chest. "Very well. Abby called. She said you had news."

_Right to the chase_. "Lee-lee does."

Liana wasted no time on ceremony. She studied the results, squinted at the graph, and looked up at them, surprised. "That man _is _my father."

Ziva came down from the stander and transferred quickly. She took Liana's hands. "Did you know him?"

Silence. Finally she nodded. "He was _awful."_

"I'm sorry," he and Ziva chorused.

She shrugged. "We didn't see him that much. Only when things got..._bad_."

_Bad_? He didn't know things could get worse than what he'd already heard. He wanted to ask, but she moved on quickly.

"I'm not Belarusian; I'm Lithuanian and Polish." She frowned. "Huh. But I _am _Jewish. It says matri-"

"Matrilinear," Ziva finished for her. "That means your mother was Jewish, which means you are Jewish according to _halacha_. And the Jews were expelled many times from their homes in Europe. Your ancestors may have been Poles or Litvaks who settled in Minsk because of that."

"Jewish like you, Ema," Liana said, eyes bright green and happy.

_Jackpot_, Tony thought.

"Yes, like me. What else does it say, _motek_?

"That I'm..._likely _Cuban. The computer said I'm a mix of Spanish and..._Tay -no_?"

"Taíno. Native tribe of the Caribbean," Ziva supplied.

Liana shook her head. "I didn't read about that tribe in my encyclopedia."

"I'll buy you another book," Tony offered. He'd buy her a hundred books if it meant she was ok.

"I want to see their artwork. Maybe that's why I like to draw."

Ziva inched closer and pushed Liana's hair away from her face. "Bernal was a famous painter from Cuba, and Chagall was from Belarus. Both Modernists. I have a books of their work if you'd like to see them."

Liana nodded. "I would. That guy who's my bio-dad—where is he?"

"Prison," Tony said quietly.

She scoffed. "The people who made me are rotten."

Ziva shot Tony a look, set her jaw, and pulled Liana into her lap. "It is ok to be angry, Lia-_leviyah_, but you are my light. Please do not call names."

She didn't apologize. Tony smirked to himself. It was time for her to stop being so damned sorry. "Can I keep this?" she asked, waving the paper.

"It's yours, kiddo. Of course you can keep it."

"Thanks. Ema, why didn't you tell Anna's mom that I'm adopted?"

She put her chin on Liana's shoulder. "I love you and I am proud of you, but that is not my story to tell, Lia. It is yours."

"Then I'm going to," she said resolutely. "But I'm not going to tell about Lyuda. I'm not ready." She folded the paper back into a neat rectangle. "And I thought I wanted to cut my hair, but I don't."

Tony exhaled. He loved Liana's thick, dark hair. He loved it long and straight, or braided over her shoulder. He loved to watch Ziva brush it at night, after Liana had bathed and put on her pajamas. He bit it back, though. "You can do whatever you'd like with your hair, Liana."

Her golden gaze sharpened. "Please don't call me that anymore. You can call me Lee-lee or Lia, but not Liana."

Ziva shifted. Was she ok with that? "Shall we change it legally, then?"

"No," Liana—_Lia —_sighed. "I want to keep it, but I don't want to use it. Not even at school. I'm just going to write _Lia DiNozzo _on my papers this year."

Tony didn't have time to form an opinion about that; Gibbs pounded up the steps and shuffled by with something heavy in his arms. "Sounds all right by me," he said lightly, and turned the corner.

Lian—_Lia—_frowned. "Is he going to my room?" She didn't wait for an answer, but slid out of Ziva's lap and followed silently. Tony listened. Ziva did, too; eyes narrowed. They heard Gibbs speaking softly, and then Lia's soft, _Oh, thank you, Saba!_

"Ema! Daddy! Come see!"

She tore back in the room, grabbed his hand and one of Ziva's push handles. "Come! Saba made it for me."

In the corner of her bedroom—beneath the window, next to the goose-necked reading lamp—was a perfect little Lee-lee sized rocking chair. It had broad arms for resting heavy books, a drawer under the apron for her sketching supplies, and her name carved in the back. Gibbs had painted it pale pink and carved her name in the back.

Tony whistled long and low. "Nice work, Boss."

He nodded and said nothing.

Ziva ran her hands along the arms, gave it a push to test the rockers. "Sit, Lia-_leviyah_," she ordered.

"I will," she replied vaguely, and traced her name with her fingers:

_Lia David-DiNozzo_.


End file.
